


backdraft

by broments



Series: controlled burn / backdraft [1]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: And they were soulmates, Boot Worship, Emotional Edging, Hair-pulling, Ice Skating, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Movie, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Spoilers, inappropriate use of armor, inappropriate use of promare, promares are just venom armor, sharing a braincell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broments/pseuds/broments
Summary: It happens in an instant, Galo gaping like an idiot while Lio presses forward to defend against the perceived threat, the weapon sparkling but not burning as it kisses Galo's throat.Galo sees the moment Lio realizes who he is, that he’s not a threat, his eyes going wide, lips parting. Truthfully, he's not sure whether Lio’s shocked at the appearance of his weapon or that he’d drawn it against Galo. Both, maybe.“What!” Galo shouts for lack of anything else, staring at the blade that should be impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god i watched this? thursday i think? and have spent the last few days feverishly writing 30k of fic. this is finished, it will be posted in chapters but it's 100% done i swear to goD. some things to note here: 
> 
> 90% of this fic exists because while i loved the movie i wanted MORE, i wanted to know why things happened etc. this fic goes into a lot of speculation about the promare, about how they choose their humans and so forth. nsfw comes in like chapter 3 if that's what you're holding out for. 
> 
> so many thanks to brig, heather, sasha, r, (for betaing!) and everyone else i yelled at for 3 days straight while feverishly writing this on a mix of cold meds and exhaustion.
> 
> edit: these tags read like threats rather than promises but here we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's!! more fanart!!! AHHHH. please look at this [gorgeous pic ](https://twitter.com/palarien/status/1188502280540246018?s=20) palarien on Twitter drew!!! Thank you so much!

Like the city and spaceship he’d built, Kray has survived. The crashed ship is like some kind of beached whale in the center of the city, some massive ugly building that’s toppled over sideways, half in the hole it came out of. They’re not even sure how to begin moving such a massive thing.

Around it is at least twenty feet of smashed rubble and debris that is going to take literal ages to clean up. Galo doesn’t want to think about how long it’s going to take to fish people out of the rubble, doesn’t want to think about how many won't be alive. He can’t; what matters is making sure they rescue as many as they can. They only have so many rescue teams able to handle such a huge task and they’re better used elsewhere, helping the survivors, helping the Burnish get out of the godsawful machine that was built to bleed them dry of their power. 

It takes everything in him to meet their eyes as he helps them out of the pods; they saved as many as they could, but the oldest, the youngest (fucking children, Kray was using _ children— _) didn’t all make it out alive, the engine consuming them like kindling for its blaze. 

Lio discovers the first one, hands gripping the hatch to release the vacuum-sealed door, straining, grunting until it clicks and hisses open and there’s nothing but silence. 

It’s the silence that’s the most jarring and it’s what gets Galo’s attention. Lio’s friends were loud, boisterous as they were freed from the machine, grabbing Lio, hugging him and shaking him with absolutely none of the reverence that Galo’d seen earlier. Kray had called them Lio’s brothers, and when one of them leans down, fitting his large hand to the top of Lio’s head to ruffle his hair Galo thinks Kray doesn’t know how right he was. 

Galo’s not sure how long they work. It takes an hour to do the first row, and there are layers upon layers upon layers of containment pods. Worse still: it feels as if it takes forever to get the power activated again to make the elevators start working. Aina’s sister works feverishly, but there’s an awful ten minutes where they stand on the lift, waiting desperately, listening to the echoing, awful moans around them. Galo reaches down to take Lio’s hand after watching it clench and unclench repeatedly, not allowing himself to make any noise when Lio grips it so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t break any bones. 

When they finally get back to work, it’s the same thing over and over again. Galo’s hands clench around the release hatch and he wrenches his shoulders — it’s a twist, shove, twist motion over and over again until it pops free, hissing. He starts counting how long it takes to undo the hatches at one point, and then loses count of the number of pods after around forty, settling for the conclusion that it’s going to take _ ages. _

_ “Another one!” _Galo hollers, and there are resounding shouts from the others, assurances that they’re going to get them out of there. The unearthly wailing doesn’t stop, but Galo thinks it quiets the more they work, the more they save.

Hours later, they’re still at it. 

There are no relieved words, no thanks, nothing at all and Galo finishes helping one of the Burnish out of the hatch with a grin, offering his hand to help her down as she unsteadily stumbles out. Being thanked would be awful, anyway, really. It’s partially his fault for not getting here in time, for not being able to rescue them sooner. He’ll just have to rescue more, and more, and more. 

On the other end of the row, Lio has stopped. Galo notices, but can’t do anything yet, yanking the other wrist brace off to free the woman in the pod. He’s holding himself a little strangely, an arm around his chest, but Galo’s not sure what that means or how to read it. Maybe...he’s cold? He _ is _ shirtless and it’s not like it’s particularly warm in here but Galo doesn’t notice the chill. 

“The rest are gathered at the end of the hall with emergency supplies! We’ll meet you there!” he booms, but the moment he’s sure she can walk on her own, he’s turning and heading to Lio’s hatch. Maybe with the loss of the Promare, he’s not able to assist them; there have been a few Burnish that were still solidly built despite the lack of proper diet and nutrition from being on the run. Lio’s strong as all hell, but he doesn’t have Promare flames to manipulate and use to lift things. It’s only right that Galo comes over and helps, but he’s learned enough to know that he has to be some kind of delicate when he offers or Lio gets that vaguely pinched, annoyed look that really doesn’t belong on his face. Galo’s not really...good at delicate, exactly, but for Lio, he’ll try. 

“Here! I finished this row, I’ll help!” Galo starts. The hatch is undone, though. Perplexed, he glances from Lio to the open door and then ducks his head in: there’s nothing, there’s no one there. Baffled, he turns around, watching the others helping people out of the hatches but no one came out, he would have seen them. “Oh! We must have already—” 

“No.” The word is sharp, cutting Galo’s well-intentioned theory in half just as cleanly as his sword would have. Lio doesn’t say anything else, mechanically moving to the next one, opening it with a crack and hiss, stepping up to start undoing the brackets holding that person’s arms to the brace, speaking soft and low under his voice, gentle in a way that makes Galo’s chest go tight. 

People don’t just disappear and Galo would have seen them leave because they have to walk past him to get out. He looks up, to the sides, and then — 

down.

On the floor there’s a tiny pile of white ash, some of it having scattered with the release of the vacuum, leaving a fine film along the line of the door. He’s not sure how long he stands there, staring at it, the realization settling awful and oily in the pit of his stomach. 

“Galo. There are still Bur—” Lio stops and starts as smoothly as if nothing happened, like his voice isn’t trembling with barely-leashed anger, “there are still people who need your help.” 

They haven’t known each other that long, but somehow Lio knows exactly what to say. 

“Of course! I’ll give it my all!” As carefully as he can, Galo closes the door to keep the ashes from scattering all over; it seems right. That was a person in there, and someone out there cared for them, they might want the ashes back to bury them.

Rescuing person after person means he’s able to distract himself for the most part but there’s a traitorous part of his mind that keeps focusing on it: the pile of ashes was so small. It doesn’t seem right, that a person could exist all this time and then be reduced to nothing but ashes. Worse: it isn’t as if Kray is the kind of person who would take names, registering people. They might not ever know who all of the piles of ash used to be unless those in the pods adjacent remembered. The unfairness of it burns worse than any blaze.

Galo keeps track of each and every single vault he opens that’s empty; every time he opens one and no one comes out, he sees Lio look over and realizes that Lio’s doing the exact same thing at his. It’s difficult to make out detail in the dim, emergency lighting but the start of bruises are beginning to bloom over his chest, on his wrists and a few other places. Squashing the thought about how if they hadn’t gotten rid of the Promare, Lio could have healed himself, Galo wrenches another door open.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know how much time passes. They open vaults, help people out (or don’t) and move onto the next one. It’s only when a heavy, familiar hand presses to his shoulder that he finally pauses, turning to look into Ignis’ placid expression, wearing sunglasses even in the dim lighting of the ship. He’s so _ cool. _

“We can handle the rest. There are six more Burning Rescue teams who just arrived. You’re relieved for the day. Don’t come back until tomorrow morning,” Ignis squeezes his shoulder once and then steps back, looking over at Lio, and Aina, who’s slowly made her way over after being relieved. “All three of you are relieved. We already have security teams set up within the ship. It’s fully stocked with food and enough beds for the time being to hold everyone while we evacuate those Foresight brought on. Don’t come back until you are at your best.” 

It’s just the right thing to say to stifle Galo’s attempt at arguing; there are people here to do the job, people who haven’t been going since hours ago, and it’s not like they can’t come back. When they’re better able to help, they can return and get back to it, they can be useful — more useful than they would be right now. Galo still wants to protest, though, because he’s fine, he can totally keep going but if the others need to rest they can. Just as he opens his mouth to say it, a bony elbow jams itself right into space underneath his ribcage and his well-meaning protest starts and ends with a startled “But— _ hhgn!” _

Betrayed, he stares down at Aina who doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest; behind her, Lio waits, fingers twitching where they hang loose at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands without flames or a hatch squeezed between his fingers. His other arm is still held to his chest and he looks paler than normal. The moment Lio notices him looking, his shoulders square and he turns his nose up, jaw clenched tight. 

“Didn’t you hear the Captain?” Aina says, yawning hugely. She elbows him again for good measure and maybe, maybe she’s a little right because he sees it coming and still doesn’t manage to stop it in time. _ Hey, _ he tries, only to be steamrolled by her. “For the day. We’ve been going for _ over a day. _Both of you even longer!” 

Oh. _ Oh _, he hadn’t realized. From the shock on Lio’s face, Galo knows that he hadn’t either. Now that he’s stopped, his body sees fit to remind him that yeah, they have been going non-stop over a day: dropped into a lake, into a secret facility, and then into a slew of battles culminating in this, hours of searching for survivors. His body betrays him now that he’s stood still long enough to realize; when he looks down at his hands, they’re blistered and raw from fighting with particularly difficult hatches. Aina’s look the same; he’s not close enough to Lio to see his hands but Galo can guess at the state of them. 

“Galo. Go home.” Ignis says again, sternly, and then rounds on his heel to start giving orders to the newcomers. “You’re to stop working as well, Lio Fotia.” 

“Listen to the captain,” Aina seconds, sliding her arm through one of Galo’s, hooking their elbows together. 

“He’s not _ my _ captain,” Lio mutters sullenly, but doesn’t try to open any more hatches, so that counts as a win. The captain’s persuasive like that.

“He didn’t tell _ you _ to go home!” Just him! The unfairness.

“_ I’m _ not an idiot,” Aina answers, tugging him bodily down the hallway, Lio following them.

This time he’s expecting the bony elbow shoved into his side. He dodges it, barely, and nearly trips over his own feet, betrayed at every turn. It’s only the slightest stumble and he catches himself, pumping his fist into the air because it was totally, 100% intentional so he could strike a pose. Neither Lio nor Aina look particularly riled up, but it’s fine. “Alright! We’ll go home, rest and come back and help more than before!” 

They take a turn down one of the hallways, where a dimly lit neon sign has an arrow pointing to 2A QUARTERS. The hall’s a mess of people, though some are trying to keep traffic moving; those with suitcases are being ushered out, and on the opposite end of the hall where 1A is marked, there’s a stern-faced security officer watching everything. 

Abruptly, Galo realizes two very important things. 

One: the people they’ve rescued — Lio’s people, are going to have to stay on the ship that very nearly killed them (or, in some cases succeeded) because the Freeze Force had destroyed their camp, stole their homes. It’s arguably the safest place for anyone who is, _ was _ a Burnish because they don’t have the security or manpower to provide security elsewhere.

Two, Lio falls into that category in a much more dangerous capacity. He was the leader of Mad Burnish, and it isn’t as if he’s particularly good at blending in even if he is a head shorter than most of those around them. It’s entirely possible that keeping him here is one of the worst ideas anyone could have; there are going to be plenty of idiots who would blame all of this on him instead of putting the blame where it belongs. It isn’t as if public opinion is going to change overnight and they can’t guarantee that the right news will spread as fast as it needs to. There’s bound to be people harboring the same ugly sentiments that Vulcan was spewing.

Hotels are right out, too. If anything, that would just put even more people in danger if they’re discovered and security would be a nightmare. This is arguably one of the most secure places for them to be. Galo still doesn’t want to suggest that Lio stays the night here.

Somehow, Aina’s led them outside into the bright daylight without him even noticing, Lio a shadow at their backs that melts into the crowd of people without saying a single word to them. Squinting, he tries to figure out where he’s gone as Aina firmly drags him out of the way of emergency workers trying to go up the ramp with supplies. When they make it through the crowd, he somehow knows just where to look, like it’s instinct, eyes drawn to him. There, talking to his generals, face unreadable, shoulders squared despite the exhaustion he must be feeling. Meis and Gueira both look concerned, the latter gesturing repeatedly at Lio’s chest which is absolutely a mess of bruising, visible in the sunlight. 

“Over there, jeez, you really are hopeless, huh? C’mon!” Aina’s cheeks puff in faux-irritation, cutting through the crowd until they’re beside Lio, both Meis and Gueira tensing on instinct before they realize who it is. Despite the confirmation, neither of them relax entirely and Galo isn’t sure if he’s a little annoyed by it or relieved that Lio has people so dedicated to his safety. Both, maybe. 

“Lio!” Wait, no, he knows how to go about this. He turns his attention on both Meis and Gueira, trusting them to have Lio’s best interests at heart like he does. “The Captain gave us instructions to go,” fuck, fuck, not home, but — “rest! This isn’t resting.” 

“He’s not _ my _ captain.” Lio whirls on him, betrayed, and Galo thinks he does a rather admirable job of not withering under that look. 

“Boss…” Gueira and Meis share the same wry, disbelieving look they gave each other when helmets and armor covered their faces, except this time now Galo can seeit. Rude. Lio moves, turning to face both him and Aina while his shadows fall into step behind him, guarding his flank, protective. 

Gueira (always Galo’s favorite, obviously) continues, “_Maybe_, he’s right. We can handle things for you here!” 

Meis (also Galo’s favorite, now) nods, smacking his fist against his palm. “You can depend on us. We’ll take care of it.”

Rather than arguing like Galo half-expects, Lio digs the toe of his boot into the ground with a frustrated noise before stalking up to where Ignis is calling orders, getting in front of him. 

“Uh-oh.” Aina says, and Vinny echoes it just before Galo himself can. They might have only known Lio for a short time but that determined set to his shoulders and his jaw is already becoming familiar. The four of them rush over to follow Lio, nearly running into each other when they stop abruptly, a jumble of well-intentioned arms and limbs. 

“Take Meis and Gueira, the elderly and the children to the Burning Rescue headquarters with you, along with a medical team and security,” Lio demands, not asks. Galo’s not surprised he’s run the same calculations in his head and come up with the very same answer; this might be a secure location but that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. “It would be better if you could split them, but I understand that may not be possible with the rescue efforts.” 

“It isn’t.” Ignis’ face is unreadable with those glasses yet when he turns his gaze on Galo behind Lio, he can _feel the disappointment. _Galo straightens, trying for his best posture. Just as he’s about to speak, Ignis continues, “I thought I ordered the three of you to leave.”

“Make it possible. And you _aren’t_ my captain,” Lio steps forward like he hasn’t been fighting all day, like he hadn't been fighting for the past who knows how long, like he intends to throw down with the Captain right now. 

“If you would let me finish,” Ignis says deliberately, and for once Galo sees Lio look vaguely cowed before a raw, red hand flicks in a clear _ go on _gesture. “It isn’t possible to house all of them, but we’ve already made arrangements where we can. It’s better discussed in private, though.” 

“Meis.” Lio holds up a hand just as one of his generals starts to try and shoulder past to protest; it’s genuinely wild to see Lio command the same respect and attention that Ignis does, despite being less than half his size. “Keep watch over the others. Gueira, get a headcount if it hasn’t been done already. Make sure we’ve got a working roster of anyone who doesn’t want to give names and personal information to them. Don’t share it.” 

“On it, boss,” they say in unison, and vanish into the throng of people until Galo can’t see them any longer, can’t tell the difference between Burnish and normal humans which is oddly the most relieving thing he can think of right now. 

Once they’re gone, Lio looks up at Ignis’ shades, stubborn down to his bones. “Lead the way,” he orders (orders! The captain! Galo’s going to have a heart-attack at this rate. Aina looks like she’s torn between glee and horror.) What’s even more impressive is the captain doesn’t argue or try to change his mind; he just jerks his chin and starts walking trusting the three of them to follow.

They’re led to what’s apparently the secondary bridge; there’s a massive table with a ton of glowing displays on it, some fractured and not functioning but more importantly, there’s food laid out. A few quiet words and those that were in there leave for the time being, bringing their paper plates with them. Aina doesn’t wait to start loading up a plate, and Galo’s quick behind her, his stomach growling loudly, traitorously. 

It’s daytime and Galo isn’t sure the last time any of them ate, not really. Time seems like a blurry thing, unsteady and wobbly at best, his memory all over the place. Yesterday, maybe? They were given water while recovering people, along with nutrition bars but that only did so much. Galo piles his plate high with protein; it’s pretty bland chicken, clearly just the bulk orders from the store to feed as many people as fast as possible but food is food. For a moment, all he wants is pizza and all he can think about is the sight of the pizza-maker tied to that awful machine, the life dragged out of him while he screamed. Suddenly, he’s not hungry for it anymore. 

“It would be better to split them up further, but I understand that you’re doing all you can,” Lio says quietly, as close to thanks as Galo thinks it’s going to get. Then, after a pause that Lio is clearly trying to pretend didn’t happen, “I’ll stay with the others, here.” 

“Are your shadows gonna let that happen?” Aina asks dubiously, sitting on top of the table rather than at the chair, watching Lio and the captain talk like it’s a particularly interesting round of tennis, eyes flicking back and forth. 

She’s right; they’ll want him somewhere safe even as he assures their safety, and Galo thinks before he speaks like always. “He can stay with me.” A pause, turning to look at Lio, earnest. “You can stay with me, I mean. Until we figure this out!” 

“Take him to a hospital first, for the broken ribs,” Ignis instructs and then levels a look at Galo from behind his sunglasses. “You, too.” 

Lio flinches like he’s been struck but he’s not sorry enough to look down in guilt; he looks straight at Galo, arms crossed, stubborn beyond reason. 

“_ Broken ribs?” _ Galo shouts, gesturing at him wildly. He knows that CPR means sometimes breaking someone’s ribs with the compressions but it’s a small price to pay for saving a life. There’s usually medical attention that follows, though, not working through over a day of rescue. “Broken ribs! From CPR! You—”

He’s still shouting, still scolding when they make their way to their bike. He’s mildly placated by the fact that they’re not _ really _ broken anymore; piloting had healed them a little bit and they were mostly bruises, but only _ mildly_. 

He slides onto his bike after the barest moment of hesitation — after they’d both piloted the mech together, a motorcycle shouldn’t be an issue. It’s only after Lio places a hand on his bicep and swings a leg over the motorcycle that Galo realizes how he’s fatally miscalculated in this moment. 

When they were piloting together it was intimate in a way he didn’t have words for; the mech moved as soon as they thought about moving it, beautifully responsive. It felt like the Promare did, like an extension of their will. It _ moved _ because of their will, their intent, powered by the blazing star of Lio’s power behind him. This is something else entirely; there’s no metal and machine to keep them separate. There’s the press of Lio’s shockingly cool, bare chest against the sweaty skin of Galo’s back, the briefest brush of fingertips against the line of his hip as he settles himself onto the motorcycle and Galo feels like he’s in the armor again with Lio blazing behind him. Behind him, there’s a sharp intake of breath, Lio’s arms tightening around his waist, hands flattening against Galo’s belly like warm brands against his skin. 

“Lio?” Galo rasps, not quite sure where all the oxygen in his chest went, sucked from him the moment their skin made contact. Then, just as quickly as it started, it’s like the tide recedes. Suddenly, he can breathe again, sucking in a shuddering breath before looking over his shoulder at Lio, not sure _ what _ just happened. 

“Are you going to start it?” Lio asks behind him, but instead of impatient he just sounds faintly shocked, unable to entirely mask it with a nonchalant tone. “You piloted the last one, you ought to let me drive this time.” 

“What? No! She requires the right touch!” She’s just a bike but he’s telling the truth, sort of; her throttle is persnickety and Galo’s absolute shit at not giving everything a hundred and ten percent: fingers too big, not meant for fine, careful movements like she requires sometimes. (He’s going to let Lio drive her anyway, but he has to put up the fight all the same.) “Besides! I am _ very _ awake now. It shouldn’t take long to get home.” 

Lio breathes in like he wants to correct him; it’s not his home, after all (it could be, but that’s a conversation for later). Galo traitorously starts the bike to cover whatever he’s going to say and the wind whipping by them steals any words. 

Despite the cool temperature that had so many bundled in blankets, despite going just a touch over the speed limit, Galo doesn’t feel the chill at all. 

🔺🔻🔺

For all that they were able to pilot the mech with no training, no manual, no instructions, it’s kind of embarrassing how they both fumble to get off of the motorcycle when Galo pulls into the parking spot. They move at once and Galo nearly topples both of them over when his pants catch on the motorcycle’s footstand, steadied only by Lio pressing a hand against the bike and against his side. Galo’s breath catches again. “If you kill yourself trying to get off your bike I’m going to tell everyone.” 

“That’s very rude,” Galo informs him, already used to Lio’s threats with no teeth behind them. As steadily as he can, Galo settles the bike and puts the tarp over it so dust doesn’t accumulate and together they walk around the garage to his apartment door. Fishing his keys out of his pants, Galo bites back a hiss when his raw hands close around the door handle. The rough rubber of the grips on his motorcycle was bad enough, but the cold metal hurts in a different way, aching and deep. Lio’s eyes glance at his hands but Galo pushes ahead before he can say anything. 

“Welcome to,” Galo pauses in the doorway, thinking for a half a second (temporary home for ex-Burnish arson-terrorists just, uh, doesn’t work), throwing his arms wide, “Galo Thymos’—” 

Lio slides in the door past him before he can finish and starts working on his nine billion buckles with a faint hiss, grimacing. It’s only when the door closes that Galo realizes that he’s not sure what...really comes next. He’s had the others over a few times, sure, for movie nights or nights when there was just so much paperwork that they made a pact to all suffer through it together. This is something else entirely. 

Once his boots are off, Lio moves through the apartment like he owns it, though, heading straight into the kitchen to survey it, looking over Galo’s half-dying houseplant (a gift and challenge from Remi, to try and keep something other than himself alive and he wasn’t exactly winning, judging by all the leaves falling off of it) taking in the screened windows, the way that there are breaks in all of the clutter on his countertops to allow easy access out, just in case. Galo sees the moment that the reason behind it clicks; Lio’s eyes flicker to each of the windows and the door knowingly, mapping escape routes, taking note of how every way out of the house is clear and easy in case of a fire. Blessedly, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“I’ll give you the grand tour!” Galo offers, as if there’s more to the apartment than a living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. Still, he shows each one off, arms spread wide. When it’s done does he falter a little: does he offer the couch? The bed? A shower? He’s not sure what the order of operations is for bringing home the ex-leader of a terrorist organization who weren’t _ actually _ the bad guys at all. Who he also kissed to save his life, which Galo’s...not even sure he really remembers. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can make something if you—” 

“No,” Lio interrupts him before he gets too far, seeming to realize that Galo’s floundering here now that they’re in his apartment, not sure what to do next. “I need to borrow something to wear. I can sleep on the couch after I shower so I don’t get it dirty.” 

Right, they’re both...covered in ash and soot and smell like smoke. They’ll probably have to get rid of what’s left of their clothes, really, there’s no way to salvage them. This, he can do, though. Lio’s pointed him in a direction and Galo knows how to follow it through. 

“Clothes!” he agrees, and ducks into his room to start banging drawers open and shut. When he comes back out, mouth opening to apologize for how they won’t fit, the water’s already running in the bathroom behind the closed door and Galo stills, not sure if he ought to knock and drop the clothes off, or wait until he comes out with a towel, or. Two quick raps on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and then he leans in to the crack of the door, voice raised. “I have your clothes out here when you are done!” 

There’s no answer, but that’s fine; he putters aimlessly around his apartment until he finds one of the medical kits stored in a kitchen cabinet. Maybe after a shower, Lio will let him look at his injuries. Washing his hands under the kitchen sink hurts more than he expects, blistered hands raw and red but it’s better he does this now than risks infection later. The kit is left out on the countertop for Lio when he comes out when he’s done and Galo fills a cup with water, just about to pour it onto the struggling houseplant when the bathroom door slides open and Lio steps out in a rush of absurdly muggy air and the scent of Galo’s bodywash clinging to him. 

Oh. _ Oh _, he’s really, really miscalculated here. He’d sort of assumed that they’d go straight to bed, he’d get a few hours of sleep on the couch while Lio slept in the bed and then they’d be back at rescuing again. What Galo hadn’t realized is that Lio would come out of the bathroom clad in shorts and a P.C.F.D. t-shirt too large for him, hair damp and dripping onto the collar of his shirt, rumpled, all his sharp edges softened in a way Galo can’t put words to. His traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“You’re killing your plant,” Lio says, padding barefoot over to where water is dribbling messily from the half-tilted cup, most of it not even hitting the plant at this point. He comes closer and closer and Galo finds himself holding his breath, throat working in a harsh swallow. “You really are an idiot, you’re only supposed to moisten the soil a little bit. Don’t pour it onto the leaves.” 

“Oh.” The cup is plucked from his hand as easily as anything and Lio dumps most of it down the sink, pouring the little remainder evenly around the stem of the plant, turning it a little bit more into the sunlight. So softly Galo’s not even sure he knows he says it, Lio murmurs, “There.” 

Only when it’s done does Lio seem to realize how close they are in Galo’s tiny kitchen, looking up at him through damp eyelashes. The frown on his face smooths out and the tightness of his shoulders fades; no longer the leader of Mad Burnish giving orders on how to handle situations, but Lio Fotia. Desperately, Galo thinks he wants to get to know both sides of him, the leader and the man under that armor. 

Lio doesn’t seem near as flustered as Galo is, which is a little unfair when Galo feels like he’s housing all of the Promare in his chest all over again, the heat and energy threatening to swell and burst free. If anything, instead of flustered, he looks calculating, amused even, at the way Galo’s floundering. The corners of his lips tilted up just slightly. He leans in closer, putting the cup onto the drying rack and Galo’s breath freezes in his chest; they’re close, they’re so, so close. Lio remembers, then? Is he going to— 

“Go take a bath, Galo Thymos. You smell,” Lio murmurs, and then rounds on his heel to start looking through Galo’s things scattered across the living room. 

Galo feels like he ought to object (it’s his house, shouldn’t he be giving the orders?) but exhaustion and the siren song of his bed wins out in the end. By the time he’s done washing up (the water is _ freezing, _Lio used all of the hot water!!), the sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains in the bathroom has started to go orange, the day slipping away faster than he realized. Shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants, he debates the need for the shirt he’s brought and tugs it on anyway, mostly because he’s too lazy to put it away again and Lio seems like the type to give him shit if he tosses it onto the ground in his room for later. 

Coming back out of the bathroom, Galo tosses the damp towels into the washing machine on his way into the living room, where mint green hair is splashed over one of the throw pillows Remi got him after the first time he came over. The hoodie that had been tossed over the back of the couch is nowhere to be found until Galo rounds the side table and sees Lio’s stolen it, curled onto one end of the couch in a self-made nest of the throw pillows and Galo’s hoodie four sizes too big for him. The light from the slowly setting sun is creeping over the back of the couch; it’s going to shine on his face and wake him up soon, but for the time being it mostly just paints the soft green of his hair in orange and gold.

Galo’s jaw clenches, his breath caught by the sudden lump in his throat. He looks… Galo doesn’t have words for it, but he feels that same swell of awe that he’d felt all those years ago when he thought Kray had saved him, but better. He’d been backlit by the burning of Galo’s building, broad-shouldered and terribly strong like Galo had always wanted to be, giving him something to work toward. Lio doesn’t have the same broad-shouldered mountain-like presence that Kray has but Galo knows without a doubt that he can depend on him for anything. It’s only fair that it goes the other way, too. He hadn’t known what Kray was back then, but he knows exactly who and what Lio is and thinks he’d probably do anything for him.

Like, for instance, saving him from getting an awful crick in his neck, sleeping on Galo’s admittedly none too comfortable couch. Galo can’t rescue him from everything but he can save him from sore muscles. Gingerly, he kneels down and presses fingertips to Lio’s shoulder, dwarfed in the folds of the hoodie and — it happens in a flash, too fast for Galo to react. Lio stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath, eyes flashing open. They tumble backward, Galo hitting the ground, with an _oof_, Lio crouched over him threateningly. His hands come together, fists clenched tight and then drawing apart like he’s summoning his sword except — 

Except, he does. Pink and blue flicker around his fists, sparks sputtering weakly and then flaring bright and vivid in the dying light of the sun creeping through the curtains. All of it happens in an instant, Galo gaping like an idiot while Lio presses forward to defend against the threat, the weapon sparkling but not burning as it kisses his throat. 

Galo sees the moment Lio realizes who he is, that he’s not a threat, his eyes going wide, lips parting. Truthfully, he's not sure whether Lio’s shocked at the appearance of his weapon or that he’d drawn it against Galo. Both, maybe. 

“What!” Galo shouts for lack of anything else, staring at the blade that should be _ impossible_, they’d burnt the Earth and closed the rift, that shouldn’t _ be possible. _

_ “What _?” Lio breathes, staring at his hands like they aren’t even his own, all the sleepy softness burned from him, sitting up straight, shoulders drawn tight. The blade dissipates with a graceful twist of his fingers like he’s pulling a thread, unspooling the fire until it fades into a shower of sparks that putter out before they touch fabric. 

He’s not wearing those gloves, Galo realizes abruptly, they must be in the pile of clothes meant for the trash, or maybe they just hadn’t survived the fight and Galo’d never noticed. The blisters on Lio’s hands start to flicker, raw, red skin crackling pink and purple for a moment before they fade out and leave his hands perfectly smooth, healed from wrenching door after door open. 

Later, Galo will run over that reaction in his mind over and over again, hating that any of the Burnish had to sleep with one eye open, always ready for a threat to come at them, needing to be on alert at all times. Right now, he grabs Lio’s hand, heedless of the flames (they won’t burn him, he knows with full certainty) and then lets out an undignified yelp when Lio’s hands spark again, the flames shivering over his knuckles, licking down the elegant line of Lio’s fingers to Galo’s own hand. It _ tickles _ down to his very bones as the flames spread from Lio’s his hands to his own and the raw, blistered skin melts away until there’s nothing but the rougher, calloused skin from before. 

Above him, Lio draws in a slow, smooth breath and touches his chest, looking shocked.

“_What?” _ Galo asks again, strangled, because he can _ feel them_, can feel the flicker of energy humming where they touch, like tiny fireworks flickering between them. He doesn’t pull away only because he knows by now that Lio’s flames won’t burn him, but there’s still an uneasy trickle of fear creeping through him, worrying that they weren’t really successful, that they weren’t able to stop this. “Lio!” 

“I don’t know,” Lio answers, hushed, curling his fingers against Galo’s hand, staring at the way flames dance across their knuckles, hands fitted together neatly. “I thought… mm. They’re sentient. Maybe some of them wanted to stay here?” 

Galo can’t imagine why they would want to, not with how poorly they, and the humans they inhabited have been treated, but it’s as good of an answer as any when neither of them know anything about how, or why. Maybe they just like Lio. Galo can imagine that more easily than anything else. 

“We— we’ll need to tell someone,” Galo finally says, voice just as low, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Lio’s practically straddling a thigh, a knee between both of Galo’s thighs. He doesn’t want to move, though, not when moving means he’ll have to release Lio’s hand. “There might be others. They should know.” 

“Not Burning Rescue,” Lio says sharply, and withdraws his hand, the sparks puttering out in a flicker between them. When Galo tries to summon them to his hand, reaching inside himself, there’s the flicker of warmth he’s starting to recognize as Lio’s flames, white-hot, never burning but he can’t make them manifest. He’s not sure what to do with the faint sense of disappointment. “Galo, _ promise me. _ You can’t, not until I speak to the others. We can’t risk it.” 

Part of him balks at the idea; he might find it easy to disobey authority when it comes to rescuing people, but not telling the captain, not telling the others? That’s putting lives in danger, isn’t it? 

“_Galo! _ ” Lio’s voice is sharp, his hand reaching out to grab Galo’s chin tightly, making him look up and meet Lio’s stare. The points of contact where Lio’s fingers rest makes his skin prickle and he’s hopelessly torn between paying attention to that and the shifting lilac-pink of his eyes. Sparks flicker over Lio’s lips, and Galo horribly thinks about kissing him instead of any kind of smart retort. “_Promise me. _” 

“Okay,” Galo manages, swallowing harshly. There wasn’t any other answer. “I promise.” 

The hand releases his chin and Lio throws himself back onto the couch; Galo resolutely doesn’t let himself feel any sort of regret for the loss of touch, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch instead to stand, grunting at the effort. One of Lio’s bare ankles rests against his leg, unintentional but still making butterflies rise up in his stomach traitorously. Sparks flicker over the material of his pants but they don’t ignite; Lio’s leg moves a second later. Galo’s a little lost because he really, really doesn’t know how to deal with this right now. 

All at once, he’s exhausted, like he’s been wrung out and the effort of making it to his bed seems Herculean in effort. The fight bleeds out of Lio in turn, leaving him slumping into the back of the couch, lifting his hand between them to summon the flames once more, before twisting his wrist, extinguishing them with a graceful movement Galo knows he could never make. 

“Bed?” The word is tugged out of Galo before he realizes what he’s saying and then he shakes his head, damp hair falling into his face before he shoves it back unsteadily. “We should...sleep. We need to go back in the morning! People will still need our help.” 

Gingerly, Lio unfolds himself from the couch and stands, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it puts the two of them nearly chest-to-chest _ again_, looking up at him with faint amusement now instead of insistent, expected demand to be listened to. Galo is given a thorough once-over that makes him feel as if he’s wearing _ nothing _ and then Lio slides past him, just close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “Then let’s go.” 

“Uh,” Galo replies intelligently, while Lio breezes into the bedroom like he’s lived here forever, leaving the door open. 

By the time he gathers himself and makes his way into the bedroom, Lio’s already a lump underneath two comforters, the wall against his back, hair a spill of green against the navy of Galo’s pillows. For all that this is Galo’s apartment, Lio acts as if he’s been here a dozen times before, the blankets drawn with the full expectation that Galo’s going to join him. 

“I have a couch?” Galo attempts, faintly strangled because he’s still trying to reconcile the sight of Lio nestled in his bed like he belongs there. 

“Obviously,” Lio rolls his eyes and waits patiently for him to decide what he’s going to do. “It’s terrible. Are they very cheap with their pay?” 

They _ sort of _are, but that’s beside the point. The reward of saving people more than makes up for it, but Galo distinctly remembers the captain coming into work after meeting with Kray, quiet anger clinging to him like a second uniform after an unsuccessful attempt at negotiating their pay higher. Now, looking back on it, it feels like another betrayal all over again. 

“I like my couch,” Galo retorts belatedly, taking the invitation mostly because he’s relatively certain if he stays standing another moment he’s going to fall asleep upright. The bed dips with the addition of his weight as he settles on his side with his back to Lio to give him a little privacy, if he needs. Lio makes an annoyed noise as he’s tumbled close against the line of Galo’s back with the full addition of his weight but doesn’t move away. Instead, he presses one hand to his shoulder blade and the other over the curve of his hip. The flush of power comes back, licking over Galo’s hip, wringing a shivery little noise out of him that he doesn’t know how to bite back. “It’s a good couch! You fell asleep on it!” 

“It’s too small for _me _ to sleep well on, let alone someone as absurdly large as you. ” Lio counters, hand sliding over the curve of his hip, neatly sidling up until he’s spooning Galo from behind. He’s too small to properly do it, not dwarfing Galo the way he would be were their positions reversed, but it’s comforting all the same to have him there. Then, patiently, as if Galo is a particularly simple creature he’s explaining this to and he just can’t resist the urge to get the last word in, “This is better. Who bought you the pillows?” 

“Remi,” Galo chokes out, staring at his wall, watching the slow, lazy flickers of Burnish flames cast shadows against his wall. It’s taking everything in him to not let on that it’s like he’s burning from the inside out, the heat pooling in his belly only growing as he becomes hyper-aware of every single point of contact between them. 

He’s shared a bed before, but it was with his teammates and usually just one of the cots in the Burning Rescue building when they were too exhausted to safely drive home but none of them wanted to brave the floor. This is entirely different, this is intentional in a way that he doesn’t know how to categorize right now, especially when one of Lio’s legs fits itself between both of Galo’s legs, and a damp forehead presses against the thin material of his shirt. Neither of them have mentioned the B word yet.

It _ is _ better than sleeping alone on an (okay, admittedly not that comfortable couch) but it’s also overwhelming in a thousand ways he doesn’t have words or experience for. Does _ Lio _ have that experience? 

“I can hear you thinking. We won’t get answers right now.” Lio murmurs from behind him. The covers rustle and the hand against his bare hip shifts, fingers skimming over the line of his belly as he adjusts, somehow fitting himself even more tightly against Galo’s back. “Go to _ sleep.” _

“I’m _ trying!” _ Valiantly, Galo holds back a wheeze or an accusation that he’s really, really trying to but it’s next to impossible with Lio’s hands on him, the prickle of power fluttering back and forth between them. How Lio sounds so steady is baffling, because with every breath in, Galo’s desperately trying to convince himself that the oxygen is not just fanning the flames banked behind his ribcage, a low simmer threatening to turn into a bonfire at any moment. Lio feels warmer now, at least; Galo _ had _ thought he felt cool earlier and it explains the lack of hot water left in the bath. 

He hasn’t known Lio a terribly long time, but he’s always been warm, like a star that happened to be trapped in a body. Concerned, Galo’s hand slides down from its death-grip on the pillow to fit itself over Lio’s, fingers tangling together and then deliberately drags it up away from his stomach so Lio’s arm is draped over his torso instead. Early morning sunlight creeping through the half-open blinds will probably wake him up; Galo doesn’t want to get up and fix it, and besides, the sun setting through the blinds makes it easier for him to study Lio’s hand. 

Both of their hands are free of the blisters from earlier. Lio’s have calluses around the curve of his thumb, the ball of his hand from holding a sword and riding his motorcycle, just as Galo’s do from his death grip on the controls of the Matoi, or his motorcycle. Gently, he traces the lines of Lio’s hand, watching purple-pink sparks trail along the lines his fingers make like miniature fireflies. They both probably ought to be a little more concerned about this, but now that he’s laying down, more than anything Galo is just _ tired. _

Only when he’s satisfied himself with exploring the palm of Lio’s hand does he turn it, trailing rough fingertips over his knuckles, tracing the fine bones in his hand up to the delicate curve of his wrist, fitting his whole hand around it easily. That was a mistake, because he’s trying to _ sleep _ and now all he can think about is how much strength is housed in such a deceptively slender body. 

Behind him, there’s a groan that’s not sexy in the slightest, but clearly irritated, Lio’s face mashing into the space between his shoulder blades. “Galo, I _ will _ push you out of this bed.” 

“It’s my bed!” Galo cups Lio’s hand between both of his, because if he’s going down he fully intends on dragging Lio with him; it’s only fair. “_ You _ are making it _ very difficult to sleep.” _

Behind him, Lio’s body starts shaking and for a moment, Galo’s horribly afraid it’s because of tears. It was bad enough seeing Lio’s dragon crying and being helpless to stop it, but this would be worse. “Hey,” he ventures cautiously, folding his hands more securely around Lio’s, leaning his body weight into him very, very gently. “I’ll get to sleep anyway, don’t worry! And I don’t kick that much! Lucia does, don’t share a cot with her if you can help it.” 

Only a moment later it becomes evident that no, he’s not crying; Lio drags in a breath and presses his cheek against the broad curve of Galo’s back, laughing softly. 

“Shut up and go to sleep, Galo Thymos,” Lio murmurs against his shoulder, squeezing him just once before letting himself finally, finally relax. Galo can hear the smile in his voice and he feels warm for an entirely different reason, not bothering to hide his smile in the pillow in response. It feels good to be reminded that they _can _ smile after so much ugliness. 

After a few more moments of restlessness, Galo finally finds himself asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i said slow burn i meant it 
> 
> anyway, things that are Important to me:  
\- galo knowing how to cook & realizing lio hasn't had a homecooked meal in ages and cooking EVERYTHING FOR HIM  
\- team fambly  
\- lio slowly sliding into a more and more administrative role as their new world takes shape  
\- ice skating  
\- galo having burnish powers (that manifest when he's catching up with burning rescue after bouncing outta prison) but just never fucking realizing it
> 
> also the mad max mention along with comparing the promare to venom armor are both brigantines' fault!!! i cannot believe she did this to me

Despite sharing a bed, in the morning, nothing seems to have changed. 

Lio wakes up before him and somehow manages to creep out of bed without waking Galo. Exhaustion has a good bit to do with it, but he’s a little disappointed all the same; he’d wanted to be awake for when Lio woke up. Did his voice get sleep-thick and lazy, or did it go low and rough? Galo got a glimpse of him without all that armor and command on his shoulders, but it was barely a few moments and greedily, he wants more. 

When he stumbles out into the kitchen, Lio’s hunched over a steaming cup of coffee, knees to his chest, sock-clad poking out over the edge of the chair from under the hoodie he’s stolen again as he reads something on a tablet. He looks...cold, which is strange given last night. When he had the Promare… (which? He still kind of does? Yeah Galo can’t think about that right now, his head hurts just considering it.) _The last time_ he’d had the Promare, it felt like he was constantly warm; never too hot, but instead the perfect temperature, to the point where not even the desert bothered him. Lio being cold doesn’t make sense; he never was before. 

Well. He’s always been better at action rather than thinking. 

“Good morning!” Galo greets cheerfully, stretching until his fingers brush the ceiling, heading into the kitchen. His shirt rides up, uncomfortable and belatedly he tugs it down, scratching at his stomach idly. Lio’s eyes flick from Galo’s face, down, and then back up again and he takes a long, slow sip of his coffee, not moving. It’s absolutely unfair that Lio undoes him with a fucking look. “I’m going to make the best breakfast you’ve ever had!” 

The hum from Lio isn’t exactly the ringing endorsement he’s hoping for, but he continues on resolutely because he’s made a promise to do it, and he’s also _really hungry._ The sooner they eat, the sooner they can get back to work, after all. 

It’s probably better that Galo woke up second; he’s loud in the kitchen and hadn’t realized until he had an audience watching him between intermittent looks through his tablet. Which— 

“That’s password-protected!” Galo cracks an egg with a little more force than necessary but manages to salvage it. “How are you using it?” 

Another sip, longer, Lio shooting him a look over the rim of the mug. “Your password is _matoi_, all capitals.” 

(How did he know? They’d been connected when they were piloting together, but that hadn’t been...information like that, more feelings and impulses and _intent._) 

“I didn’t read your mind, either, you are just _predictable,” _Lio uncurls one of his hands from around the mug and but his tone isn’t _annoyed_, it’s fond. He tugs the hoodie’s hood up over him and tugs the strings, turning back to the tablet. 

That...doesn’t really do much to dissuade Galo from his conspiracy theory about Lio being able to read his mind, because he knew exactly what he was thinking just now, but sure. Okay. Lio’s not nearly as predictable and Galo has a lot of vegetables that he needs to use, so he lays them out onto the cutting board and starts chopping. 

“Well. You aren’t. But I’ll get better at knowing you!” For an important first question, Galo looks up at him and very nearly chops his fingers off. “Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” 

There’s a long pause before Lio finally answers, sounding a little surprised. Galo would look up to verify, but he also really, really doesn’t want to lose a finger. 

This at least gives him a task to focus entirely on, with small breaks between preparing to ask Lio how he likes certain things. 

_Chicken_? Yes. 

_Cheese? _Yes. 

Almost everything is a yes. Smoothies are a no, which Galo supposes is probably due to the cold. Once things are cooking on the stove, he comes over to top off Lio’s coffee from the coffee machine, feeling oddly raw as Lio’s cheek rests against his drawn-up knees, watching him. He ought to look ridiculous, perched on the chair like that but instead he looks soft and gorgeous and Galo desperately wants to push the hoodie back to curl fingers in his hair.

“Aren’t you cooking breakfast?” Lio prompts after a moment of them just looking at each other, reaching for his newly topped off coffee, flinching when it hits his tongue, apparently burning him. He looks faintly betrayed for a moment, and Galo reaches out without thinking, pressing fingertips to his wrist. Skin-to-skin contact healed the blisters from earlier, it stands to reason that it’ll erase the burn. “Galo, _breakfast!” _

_“_Oh— shit,” Galo jerks away and hustles to the stove where their oatmeal is nearly boiling over. He manages to salvage most of it, but has to sweep a fair amount of it into a paper towel so it doesn’t burn on the stove. Blessedly, nothing else burns and it’s still edible. By the time he’s bringing Lio a full plate of breakfast scramble, sausages, fruit and a bowl of oatmeal, Lio’s untangled himself from underneath the hoodie. He looks, Galo notes, _surprised_ at the breakfast once it’s put in front of him. “I hope you enjoy it!” 

“This is a lot of food,” Lio says, but he’s already picking up his utensils. Galo doesn’t remember seeing him eat when they had, earlier — he’d been talking to Captain Ignis. It’s been _hours since then._ When was the last time Lio had a kitchen to cook in? When was the last time he had a proper meal that wasn’t scavenged? Hell, Galo hadn’t even seen Lio eat in the cave; he’d let everyone else pick through it first.

“I made more than enough,” Galo assures, and even if he _didn’t_, he’d make more if Lio wanted it. “But I can always make more! Or something else if you want! I make the best lunches you’ll ever have, too.” 

And dinners, but he’s _also super hungry_, so he holds off on boasting about it in favor of plunking down next to Lio, digging in. It’s fresh off the stove so it’s edging on too hot, but Lio stretches a leg out and hooks their legs together casual as you please and Galo takes a bite without worrying. 

They...really need to talk about this.

After they eat.

He’s not really sure if he means the casual contact and burning desire Galo has to cook all of those meals and more for Lio, or the fact that when they touch it activates alien life forms that they had _supposedly_ sent back to their universe. All of it, probably, and more. 

While he’s working over exactly what to ask about first between trying to eat as fast as possible, Lio keeps scrolling through the tablet. It’s...probably a security violation of some kind, he thinks he remembers something about that in the training manuals that he’d barely glanced at. That’s what the password was for, right? 

“They’re expediting the trial for Kray Foresight,” Lio says after a few firm taps on the screen, pushing it away from him, stabbing his spoon into the oatmeal a little harder than is necessary, glass clinking. Galo stills. “Or, they’re trying. They’re apparently having trouble finding anyone unbiased to serve on the jury.” 

Okay, yep. _Absolutely_ a security violation, he’s reading the Burning Rescue private messages. Captain Ignis is going to murder him. 

“Oh,” Galo says because he doesn’t really know what else to say in response to that, unsure how he feels about it. It’s good that Kray will be brought to justice. It’s a little surprising it’s happening this fast, but he supposes they need to sooner rather than later given the situation. “What’s the situation where Parnassus crashed?” 

Lio hears it for the '_how is everyone'_ it is and pauses his eating long enough to answer. “They’re rotating shifts. By the time we get there, all of the pods will be evacuated. Meis says they’ve almost made a list of all of the — all of the survivors.” 

“Good,” Galo says and means it. “He needs to answer for what he’s done, properly.” 

Rather than arguing, Lio makes a face and shoves his spoon back into the oatmeal, stirring in some of the fruit from his plate. For a while there’s silence, the two of them eating quietly. After their plates are clean a second time (Galo’s ridiculously impressed that Lio managed to eat so much, honestly) and Galo’s cleaned up, he digs through his admittedly bare closet for something a little better for Lio to wear back. 

“I’m sure we have something at the station,” Galo says when Lio comes out of the bathroom, hair brushed into place, pants cinched tight with a repurposed, less-burned belts from his outfit. Somehow, despite everything being too large for him, he manages to make it look fashionable, intentional, even. 

They still haven’t talked about _it_ yet, but now that they’re both ready, Galo’s itching to get back to work. He feels a thousand percent better, not tired at all and Lio looks just as refreshed. It’s that fact that keeps Captain Ignis from arguing when they show up a full hour and a half earlier than they’re supposed to. They’re put to work because Ignis won’t turn away two capable sets of hands but he doesn’t look thrilled about it. 

Most of the day, Galo only sees snippets of Lio. The day blurs together into night, broken only by eating as fast as he can, and helping direct people when there’s a gap in coverage. At one point when carrying two massive boxes of supplies past one of the open doors, he sees Lio’s generals talking to him as they review a slew of paperwork scattered across one of the tables. The glow from the tablets highlights Lio's face in hair in shades of emerald and neon blue and Galo's heart skips a beat, feet locked to the ground.

Varys runs into him and the resulting yelp and clatter is enough to draw the attention of the three of them, Lio meeting his eyes with a brief flash of a smile before he turns back down to his paperwork. Refusing to be embarrassed, Galo leans half of his body into the door and says, “You’re all doing _great_ work!” and then runs to catch up with Varys before any of them can say anything. 

🔺🔻🔺

The day of work doesn’t end until far after the sun has gone down. They’re forced to take breaks intermittently; at dinner Galo plunks himself down next to Lio and doesn’t...really know what to do with the fact that when he dares to knock their legs together affectionately under the table, that flicker of power bursts forth over his skin and he instantly feels as if he could keep working for another ten to twelve hours. 

Lio looks much the same; he’s sitting even straighter if that’s somehow possible given his normally ramrod-straight posture. Across from them, Meis is watching both of them with narrowed eyes but doesn’t say anything. 

They’re still sent home nearly sixteen hours later despite Galo’s protests that he’s _fine_, his firefighter’s soul isn’t at all dampened by moving rubble. Ignis isn’t impressed, and both of them are forced to go back home. This time, he’s expecting the flare that lights up inside him when Lio settles behind him on the motorcycle, but it’s more manageable when he knows it’s coming. His breath still hitches, catches in his throat when Lio’s hands wind around his waist. 

Breaking only a few traffic laws, they manage to make it home and get all the way off the bike without knocking into each other. Lio fishes Galo’s keys out of his jacket pocket like it’s habit while Galo’s still furiously texting Lucia something about revisions to the Matoi gear to help get rid of the rubble. It’s only after he’s stepped in and flung his boots off that he realizes what Lio’s done and by the time that happens, the bathroom door is closing and water is running. 

They trade off again, and again, Lio’s on the couch when Galo exits the bathroom, carding a hand through his hair to shake out some of the extra water. 

“I put the clothes the others found in the washer along with mine,” Galo says for lack of anything else to say. He decidedly doesn’t think about how it’s a little bit of a bummer not to have Lio walking around in his clothes and then proceeds to shove past that thought for his own sanity. “Lio…” 

Instead of answering, Lio gets up and heads for the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder with an impatient look when Galo doesn’t instantly trail after him. They wind up in much the same position as last night; Lio doesn’t let himself be spooned and Galo’s not exactly upset about being the big little spoon. Neither of them seem to be able to fall asleep, though. 

Eventually, the quiet is too much for him and Galo sucks in a breath before uttering in a rush, “I don’t understand! I watched them leave! I thought you said that they wanted to burn out. I thought we sent them home.” 

“I felt them leave me,” Lio answers, either ignoring or not noticing how his lips brush against Galo’s back when he speaks, the words half-muffled. “I...I don’t think they left _you_. You were using Burnish powers to fight Kray.” 

“But you… I thought _you_ did that,” Galo’s brow furrows, utterly perplexed. He’d just...assumed that it was a side—effect of Lio’s flames protecting him, that it was borrowed power. Lio’s quiet against his back and this time it feels more ominous than anything else. 

“When I was fighting, trying to get to Kray, I saw you,” Lio says finally, quiet, like it’s a confession. “When you reached Burning Rescue. Those weren’t my flames.” 

When Galo had been running to catch up with his team, flames trailing behind him. He’d...just assumed they were Lio’s, boosting him to go faster. The realization that there was a chance that they _weren’t_ is…

“I would know!” Galo protests for lack of anything else to say. He’s _seen_ people spontaneously develop Burnish abilities. It’s vicious more often than not. It’s borderline violent, the spasms fierce and cruel without intending to be. This was nothing like that. “That’s not how it shows up!” 

“It isn’t the same for everyone.” Lio’s hand goes searching until it comes across Galo’s arm, tracing it all the way until he can put their hands together again. In Galo’s palm, pink and blue sparks edged in green sputter until a flame lights and Lio folds his fingers into it with a shivery sigh that makes goosebumps rise across Galo’s skin. “It wasn’t like that for me, or Gueira.” 

This is the most he’s learned about Lio by him volunteering information and Galo’s not sure if asking questions or just being quiet for once and letting him talk is going to get more. He’s...not really great at being quiet. “What was it like for you?” 

Lio hums against his shoulder and Galo valiantly doesn’t make noise in response.

“Having it or using it? It...felt like when you’ve been outside in the cold for so long you aren’t sure if you’ll ever warm up again, but then you step inside somewhere perfectly heated.” Lio slides his hand around until his fingertips graze the lines on Galo’s palms, tracing aimlessly while miniature flares follow the lines. “Everything that was cold starts to hurt a little, pins and needles as you get the feeling back. Then, it just...it felt like being warm, all the time.” 

_Felt_, not _feels._ Galo isn’t sure what to do with that information, or how it’s about as accurate of a summary of how it felt when he thought he was on fire. He’d been so concerned that he _was_ on fire and so distracted by everyone’s attempts at putting it out that he hadn’t realized how many attempts it took, All of the Burnish in the world were turned back into regular humans...except him? _Why_? And why could Lio manipulate the flames so easily? Practice, maybe? 

Behind him, Lio yawns, a warm exhale against his back and presses the tip of his nose against Galo’s spine. “What does this feel like now?” Galo asks, because he’s been dying to know this whole time. 

“It’s that, without the pins and needles,” Lio flicks the flames from their hands out across the room, and folds his hand back over Galo’s to tilt it back and forth, using his index finger to guide its dance back and forth like he’s a conductor. Behind him, there's a thick yawn, an exhale of humid breath against his spin. Galo shivers. “It’s better. What does it feel like for you?” 

He doesn’t know if he has words for it, really. There isn’t any experience that he’s had that even remotely matches what this feels like, what _any_ of this has felt like. He doesn’t know what to compare it to, but Lio answered and he has to do the same. “Ah… hmm. Sometimes we handle controlled blazes. On the edge of the city, there are farms. At the start of summer, they’ll make these _huge_ piles of things to burn, or they’re tearing down a barn, or something. They’re supposed to call us so we can make sure it burns properly and no one is in danger. Kind of boring, and there’s no _rescuing, _but it’s good, too. All of us went, once. It was our night off and they had a big one, buncha stuff from the farm. We sat around the fire and Remi brought things to cook over the fire.” 

The fire floating back and forth slowly dims, fading into a wisp and their hands sink back down to the bed while Galo continues talking. 

“It feels like sitting so close you expect the fire to hurt you, that it’s going to be too hot. But it’s just _warm_. _And _you’re full of food, everyone is around you and you don’t have to work tomorrow. Or… the beach. You get out of the cold water and the sand’s hot and your towel’s hot and you just want to nap for_ever_.” None of those really explain it, but they’re as close as Galo can get, sleepy and content under the blankets, Lio breathing soft and even behind him. _Be brave_, he tells himself, not sure why he can run into a burning building but four words are so much harder. “It feels like this.” 

There’s no response from behind him, and for a moment Galo wonders if he’s fucked up, if he’s taken it too far. Gingerly, he tries to turn a little. “Hey?” 

No answer, except for a sleepy mumble from Lio that’s _absolute_ nonsense, the arm around Galo’s waist relaxed and loose. He’s _asleep_. Mashing his suddenly burning face into the pillow, Galo figures if he’s said it once, he can say it again, later, when Lio’s awake to hear it and goes to sleep himself. 

🔺🔻🔺

It’s one thing to make an earnest promise about building a new world together after a battle that’s nearly killed both of you and something else entirely to actually go through with the creation of it. 

They spend weeks just cleaning up. Galo’s lifted so many pieces of rubble that he doesn’t want to look at another one, but somehow, there are more. There’s a routine for a while, going into work to clean the city up and sometimes answering rescue calls about normal, non-Burnish related fires. 

Lio spends more and more time with the ex-Burnish and a city-appointed contact while they try to figure out the power-vacuum that Kray’s betrayal has left. Galo doesn’t touch the information with a ten-foot pole; Lio reads the news off the tablet in the mornings while Galo makes breakfast and tells him the important stuff. 

Galo spends his mornings working through variations of the same meals and explains that he’d learned how to cook mostly out of necessity; he wanted to be part of Burning Rescue and needed the proper diet to maintain muscle mass and energy required. At first, it had been the basics but after months of eating eggs and oatmeal, he’d started dressing it up a little bit. 

It’s been...a while since Lio’s had a meal cooked in a home, rather than on the run with materials scavenged. He says it nonchalantly one morning, when Galo’s used the fancy goat cheese that was in one of the many, many gift baskets Burning Rescue, has been sent recently and Galo pumps his fist to the ceiling, promising to make him as many meals as he likes. 

It’s _good_, but when he asks Lio to look up the brand to see where they can buy it, he chokes and sputters at the cost of it. Lio looks unimpressed. It _is_ good though. They go through it all during a particularly hard week, where the casualty numbers are starting to be solidified and they’re more certain about which names are _dead _versus in the hospital, or missing. Food doesn’t fix what’s been done, but Galo always feels better after it, and Lio seems to too.

Lio isn’t the kind of roommate (is that what he is?) whose temper makes him unbearable to be around. He’s not like the dragon that was tearing the city apart in his rage, helpless with anger. Instead, when a day is particularly difficult, he spends more time around Gueira and Meis and the other Burnish. On one of the worst days, full of bureaucratic stupidity and yelling matches with the temporarily appointed interim governor's assistant, Galo takes them up to the mountain instead of home and they hike for thirty minutes up to the lake. 

Most of the water had burned off when they’d fallen into it, but a few rainy weeks combined with the magma and debris that had exploded from underground to fill half the lake up, it’s frozen much earlier this year. Less water to freeze, Galo reasons. 

When they both step off of the bike, Galo eyes the lake cautiously and then throws caution to the wind to go out and stomp his way onto the lake, testing it. “Are you— _Galo!”_ Lio scrambles after him, but the ice is solid and Galo skates a lazy circle around him, reaching out to grab Lio’s arm when he nearly slips on the ice, trying to steady himself. “You’re an _idiot_!” 

“I dug five meters down into the ice last year,” Galo answers, letting Lio get his feet underneath him, failing to hide his smile when Lio’s hands stay clenched around Galo’s bare forearms. “Kind of weird, right? I came here to cool down, and skating wasn’t working, there wasn’t anyone to rescue so I just started digging.” 

“_Why?_” Lio asks once his legs are locked stiffly and he starts scooting his boot-clad feet slowly across the ice, brow furrowed. Then, belatedly, like he’s just realizing how absurd that distance was, “_How?_” 

Galo’s shoulders rise and fall in a little shrug, taking a larger step back to gently tug Lio with him, watching him get used to the way moving works. They’ve gotten better about skin-to-skin contact not activating the Promare out of necessity and practice, but neither of them can summon it on their own, still. Gueira has manifested his Promare again, weakly but still functional, Galo’s learned, but no others; Meis and Lio are still hopeful.

“I wanted to see what was down there, There’s another lake further up, the same size. It doesn’t freeze all the way down. Sometimes we have to send someone up there. City campers who don’t know how to check the ice. This one’s harder to come to. The challenge pumps me up!” Galo says like it makes complete and utter sense. It does, in his mind. Lakes like this shouldn’t freeze. The only thing he could think of that would make it freeze was if there was less water in it. The only thing that’d mean there was less water in it is if something was there. “I guess we found out what was under there.” 

Lio dares to take a more confident step this time, his earlier sour mood melted away with the concentration to do this and do it properly, but he’s like a baby deer who’s trying _really, really _hard to keep their legs underneath themselves. “You dug five meters into a frozen lake just to see what was in there _after_ a half hour-hike?” he repeats, like this is somehow the most absurd thing he’s ever heard Galo say. It’s _not_, Galo’s said a lot of absurd shit.

Galo’s grinning, because this is so, so much better than the quiet anger from earlier. “Yeah! But I didn’t find anything and it was late, so I figured I should go home.” 

Two steps forward, and then a third, Lio making his way across the ice, slowly getting used to the way to move best across it without teetering. “What did you _dig_ with?” Lio asks once he’s made it a few successful pushes, looking more and more natural at it. 

“I keep an extendable shovel in the toolkit under the seat.” It’s small, but he’s used it to dig out stuck cars, or to put out campfires properly, or a thousand other uses, like...digging into a lake. “It was a _very frustrating day._” 

He goes back to sliding his boots across the ice more firmly, looping around Lio again before starting to extend the length of his strides. Lio watches how he does it, eyes lingering on his legs, and Galo feels his face warm as he’s inspected. He wants to make a comparison about what movements to use, but he doesn’t know what to say. There were, he’s learning, life experiences that Lio just didn’t have. He had a past before being the Mad Burnish leader but no one really seems to know what it was. The same day Galo had become part of Burning Rescue Lio had...shown up and told Meis and Gueira that he was leading them and they’d accepted it. It’s a little like fate, or whatever, Galo doesn’t know how to think about it really but it seems right that they’d become who they were meant to be on the same day.

Still. Lack of shared experiences. It meant he couldn’t say it was like one of those stair exercise machines that the gym had; Lio hadn’t ever been to a gym before, except maybe in elementary school. Galo twirls another circle around him as he tried to think how to explain how to do this, only for Lio to reach out and grab him by the arm, tugging him in. They slide a few inches despite Lio’s steadily planted feet, and Galo is prepared to ask if he’s okay, if he wants to leave, when abruptly, Lio starts to get taller. Galo sinks further and further, steam hissing underneath his feet.

Below him, the ice is melting bit by bit until it just barely is shy of the lip of his boots. Any sort of strong movement is going to send water soaking into his boot and he’s going to have to dump it out. Lio looks _utterly _unashamed at using his, (_their?)_ ability to melt the ground under him so he couldn’t skate anymore and goes back to slowly sliding his feet across the ice. 

“They’re talking about putting Mad Burnish on trial, after Kray,” Lio says out of nowhere, still focusing on his footwork. “Or well, its leaders. They haven’t figured out how to try everyone yet but they’re working at it.” 

Galo isn’t strong enough not to try and jerk forward, instantly mad on their behalf because they haven’t even made it to Kray’s trial. Water soaks into his boot and he stomps his way up out of the slush and over to Lio who looks a little like he regrets mentioning it. When he reaches out this time, Galo knows how to direct the flames to evaporate the water, to dry out his socks without risking disaster or lighting himself on fire. 

Lio knows all of this because he’s still reading the tablet. Galo’s changed his password three times, but Lio’s never commented on it, or needed his password, so his theory of mind-reading still isn’t entirely debunked yet. 

“We’ll talk to them, whoever we need to. Captain Ignis will, and so will the rest of the team,” Galo says with full certainty. “You’re part of the team too!” 

By default, so are Gueira and Meis, even if they’re not around the rest of the team as much. The ex-Burnish have effectively voted for the three of them to be the ones to handle everything happening, from resettlement, the reunification of families, to everything else. Lio seems happy to do it, if not downright determined just because he’s been asked. “We’re not…”

“You have _lockers_,” Galo points out, as the finishing blow to his argument “They let _you_ ride in the front seat.” 

It doesn’t get a smile out of Lio, but it comes close enough. He rolls his eyes and they go back to skating and learning to skate. “It isn’t your duty to rescue me, or Meis, or Gueira.” 

“Not in the same way it is to rescue everyone else, no.” Galo agrees. Lio’s looking pretty confident with his larger steps, so Galo starts to speed up, giving himself a good kick, sliding across the ice on one leg once he gets going. “But the Mad Burnish haven’t been as active lately! My burning soul needs _something_ to help or rescue, or I’m going to start digging in this lake again.”   
  
He might anyway. He kind of wants to know if anything is left from the lab. Proof, maybe, for the case being built against Kray. Maybe it’ll be necessary and they’ll evaporate most of the lake again to start looking. Who knows. Maybe it would help Lio’s people, too, if they found more than just that video clip?

Beside him, Lio frowns and reaches out to grasp his hand, lacing their fingers together again. A moment later, his whole body ignites, and armor bleeds over his waist, down, until he’s wearing the bottom half of his normal armor, the blades of his feet a little wider this time. His next few steps are still cautious, but it’s clearly easier for him and Galo is forced to skate a little harder to keep up, not bothering to hide the loud, impressed noise at his idea. “Hey! We could go ice skating properly like this!” 

Around his legs, flames start to gather, and armor fits itself from his calves down over his boots, giving him blades to slide on. Instantly, he sees Lio realize he’s absolutely messed up; Galo bends down and scoops him like a linebacker, kicking off, sliding across the ice with a whoop that drowns out Lio’s startled intake of breath. 

“Hey,” Galo says, once he’s made it a full lap around the lake and Lio’s mostly stopped fighting, accepting his fate as Galo parades him around. The cold tip of Lio's nose presses against Galo's throat. “We should play hockey. Your team against mine!” 

He’s filled with the burning fire of competition, and for a moment, he’s afraid Lio’s going to tell him no, that it’s a dumb idea when they’re in the middle of all this mess and things are still terrible. Instead, Lio loops an arm around Galo’s shoulders, leeching all the body heat from him that he can and hums. “Maybe, when it’s over.” 

Maybe is good enough. They make it to the other side of the lake and Galo finally puts him down, watches those blades cut thin, precise lines in the ice as he adjusts his footing, waiting. 

“Race you back to the motorcycle,” Galo says once he’s sure Lio’s able to stand up straight, and bolts off at the same time as Lio does. For once, the armor stays when they’re not touching, flickering out to smoke when they make it to the other end of the lake, a clear tie. 

The ride home Lio presses himself up against Galo’s back, a cool line against him from behind but that night when they both crawl into bed, exhausted, his hands are as hot as the fire he commands, sliding over the muscles of Galo’s back.

🔺🔻🔺

There are some things with building this new world that Galo hadn’t really considered as potential problems. It was a heartfelt, well-intentioned promise to build this new world together, and while he’d known that it would be more difficult than just walking into city hall and demanding changes be made, he hadn’t realized just how difficult. 

Ignis is generally the one who deals with the bureaucracy for them so they don’t have to; sometimes Remi will step in if Ignis isn’t around but for the most part Galo doesn’t have to deal with any of it. All of that time in the spotlight before Kray, and after him meant that one day he came out of the station to grab something he’d forgotten on his motorcycle, and outside the station were a slew of reporters, with Ignis’ broad shoulders positioned to block them from access. He only realizes he’s fucked up the moment that one of them notices him and abruptly, dozens of cameras are focused on him and people are shouting. 

It’s nothing like when the medal had been pinned to his chest, nothing like the orderly crowd that Kray had been forced to assemble after Lio and the others had been caught. People keep _shouting_ and Galo beams, tries to answer questions here and there, but then Lio comes out to check what’s _taking_ so long, and all of the attention turns on him, too. He looks like a deer in the headlights, clad in the oversized P.C.F.D jacket, a black shirt over leather pants with too many buckles, and boots that go up to his knees. 

It’s fine until it isn’t: one of the reporters shoves a mic into Galo’s face and asks him what the rest of Burning Rescue thinks about having a known terrorist with them and the smile is wiped clean off his face. He shouldn’t be shocked at the brazenness of the question but he _is_, and it’s only Ignis shouldering through that saves them from an extremely _not_ PR department-approved answer. Lio’s already escaped back into the building; Galo does the same after a look from Ignis over his sunglasses. 

Back inside, Lucia gives him a look from where she’s watching the chaos via one of her robots floating overhead, cameras on. “They’ll leave, eventually. I _have_ been wanting to try out my new fire suppressant robot, though…” 

Lio, who _vehemently protests_ that he’s _not_ a part of the team when it suits him, leans over her shoulder to look at it. “Now is as good of a time as any,” he says, apparently deciding that _this_ is one of those moments he’s all about Teamwork. 

Across the room, Aina plants her feet on the ground and kicks, sending her chair sailing over to bump into Galo’s hip so she can watch too, and somehow, the entire team winds up gathered around Lucia’s tiny tablet as she arranges the foam dispenser line _just_ so. One button starts a warning alarm about a drill, lights starting to rotate on the top of it; the cameras pick up all of the vultures looking up, perplexed. Ignis takes two steps back, just as the foam sprays out across the ground, dividing a clean line between him and the reporters, sending them scrambling back to protect their gear. 

It’s entertaining, at least a little bit, but Galo finds he spends the rest of the day thinking about it. Reports had come out about Mad Burnish and how they hadn’t killed after Lio took over, how Kray was responsible for so many of the problems, _not_ the Burnish, but it didn’t matter. Public opinion was going to be hard to sway and it would take time. 

Do they not realize just how hard it is to be an ex-Burnish right now? Galo has to hope they don’t, that it’s not willful ignorance, because he’s only seeing a part of it and it’s enough to drive him crazy with the injustice of it. 

At one point, Meis loses his lighter and despite Lio’s distaste for the habit, he drags Galo out on a lunch break to go fetch another one for him. It’s fine, up until the bored-looking cashier holds out a hand and Lio tries to put money in it. “No, ID,” he says, giving them both a once-over, looking unimpressed. “Need an ID to purchase a lighter.” 

“A what,” Lio says with all the incredulity of someone who spent _years_ actively possessing the power to light an entire city on fire. 

“An ID, man,” the clerk says and Galo hurries to dig his wallet out of his pocket, shoving the ID over the counter. For a moment he’s afraid they’re going to be turned away because Lio doesn’t have one but the clerk apparently decides that one is good enough and takes the two dollars, waving them out the door with a lackluster _have a good day_. 

Galo returns it, louder and more cheerful and together they exit the store, heading back. “We probably should get you an ID,” he points out after a few moments, hands shoved into his pockets, face tipped up to the sun with intermittent glances to make sure he doesn’t run into anything or anyone. 

“You think an ex-terrorist without any paperwork is going to be given an ID?” Lio asks, like Galo’s particularly slow for suggesting it. “I’ve worked the last three months trying to get the children identification and half of their parents still had their birth certificates. It doesn’t matter. They’d sooner draft up the paperwork to throw me in prison with Kray than give me or most of us identification.” 

Galo wants to protest it, wants to argue about wills and ways, but he knows better now. How many times has Lio come home after working tirelessly for his people, frustrated, but gone right back to it in the morning despite knowing it’s going to be much of the same? 

This isn’t a blaze he can put out or a problem he can solve on his own, but he doesn’t know how not to try. Lacing his hands behind his neck, Galo matches Lio’s hurried pace on the sidewalk, and thinks. 

“There’s an interim governor, right?” There is, Galo’s met her twice so far, and she seems fine, if a little harried and overworked trying to pick up the mess she’s been left. 

“Estaria Kalti, yes,” Lio shoots him a look, turning the corner to the station, walking straight into the open garage door rather than using the entrance. Meis’ lighter is tossed at him on the way passed, a whoop of thanks escaping him as he heads out to go smoke. “Why.” 

“I helped save the city, and the world, I think that’s enough to get her to talk to me,” Galo reasons, shrugging. “If I can get her to talk to me, then I can make her listen to why she should make the process easier, right?” 

Lio looks like he wants to argue that there’s no way it’s going to be that easy, but before he can Galo’s heading for the captain’s office, opening the door with a thud. “Captain! Can you set up a meeting with Interim Governor Kalti!” 

Behind him, Aina’s chair squeaks as she leans back and shares a vaguely bemused look with Lio, but by the end of the day Galo has a meeting scheduled with Kalti and they leave work on time so Lio can talk him through all of the problems with trying to acquire ID when you’ve been chased all over the ends of the earth and don’t have any proof of birth, paperwork, or anything else. 

He still falls asleep twice, but has a page and a half of notes that Lio writes for him, and _that_ night Lio lets him be the big spoon. Galo presses his face into Lio’s hair with a hum and folds up against him shamelessly, falling asleep through Lio walking his fingers over the swell of an arm, flames dancing down the path his fingers take. 

🔺🔻🔺

Despite Kray’s trial being expedited, that doesn’t mean that it goes particularly fast. Meeting with the interim governor goes better than Galo expects, sure, but not as well as it could have. He’ll do better next time he talks to her; he’s nothing if not tenacious and he doesn’t know when to give up. 

Still, she takes it remarkably well when Galo and Ignis come to their meeting with a massive stack of paperwork that is every single ex-Burnish’s name, former property, and anything else that they can reasonably use to help them get what they owned back. She seems to want to help, and her distaste for the Freeze Force makes Galo feel a little bit better already. He’s not sure that he can tell, entirely, if someone is actually good or not but he _hopes_ that she is. Ignis seems to trust her, and that’s enough for the time being. 

For a few weeks, that’s all that takes up Lio’s time. He’s still trying to work on getting all of his people resettled and it takes time, money, and resources that require a ridiculous amount of bureaucracy to navigate. All of Kray’s assets have been seized after what’s happened, but they’re still using the Parnassus to house most of those that were displaced. 

The children and elderly were moved out of Burning Rescue relatively early, placed in secure locations that Meis, Lio, and Gueira had the location for but precious few others did. It leaves just the two of them staying in Burning Rescue until a better location is lined up but for the time being it works out; it’s equidistant from all of the places that they need to be and Burning Rescue needs the extra hands even if they’re more focused on rebuilding rather than putting out fires lately. 

Galo goes back to fighting normal fires; he loses two shirts in a week and spends dinner convincing Lio that _that’s_ why he stopped wearing them so much. Lucia managed to get the fireproofing down with the pants but shirts weren’t ever quite nailed so they ended up burning off of him. When they go to bed that night, Lio spends an inordinate amount of time tracing patterns across Galo’s bare back, fire licking lines over the curve of his shoulder blades, down the line of his spine. 

They still haven’t talked about it. 

About any of it. 

Galo thinks they probably should, but there haven’t been any other Burnish that have been found, so as far as they can tell it’s just a few of them. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from the captain, but Lio’s still trying to figure out the hows and the whys in addition to everything else that he’s working on so the least he can do is buy a little more time. He hasn’t lit anything on fire, accidentally or otherwise, so it’s not like they’re in any danger or putting anyone in danger. 

He _would _really like to know why it’s just when they touch, though. Lio seems better able to control it than Galo is, able to manifest it larger and larger as the weeks go on but there doesn’t seem to be the _intent_ behind it. Lio never seems to _need_ to burn, he just does it because it’s what’s familiar, like wrapping a familiar blanket around himself. 

Galo also isn’t an idiot; he’s noticed that Lio is often cold. He used to wear the black leather in the middle of the desert and wasn’t ever bothered by it but now, more often than not, he’s covered head to foot and when Galo touches him, he’s always shocked by how cool his skin is in contrast to how blazingly warm it used to be. It’s another question that he just...doesn’t ask, mostly because he’s not sure that Lio will want to answer. 

On the other hand, Galo is always _warm_. Once he’s aware of it, he can’t seem to stop being aware of it. The third shirt he loses, Galo just gives up, deciding that he’s put in a good effort and if it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. It’s not like he’s ever really cold and the sleeve covering his scars is the only thing that ever really survives the (normal, orange-red instead of neon blues and pinks) fires he dives headfirst into. 

One morning, while bickering over coffee and doughnuts that someone else has sent over to their building, Ignis steps out of his office. “Fotia. Galo,” and then he steps back in. 

For all that the team is like a family, they’re also a bunch of _assholes_. Aina grins, rocking back in her seat with an, _oooh, are you in trouble_? Galo throws a donut hole at her and she catches it in her mouth, which is so impressive that they nearly do it again before Lio grabs him by the arm and _pulls_. 

“Captain!” Galo says unnecessarily, only for some of his brightness to seep free a moment later, because Ignis looks particularly stone-faced today. He doesn’t _think_ he’s done anything wrong but it’s not often that the Captain looks like this, even in private. 

“What is it?” Lio asks, hands gripping the back of the seats that no one actually uses when they’re in Ignis’ office. 

“Kray Foresight has asked to see both of you in advance of his trial.”

There’s the creak of leather gloves as Lio’s hands clench tightly against the back of the chair. “Has he.” 

“_What_? Why? Why does he want to see us?” Galo asks in a flurry, hating that despite everything there’s still a part of him that’s flattered, that _wants_ to please Kray so desperately. 

“I don’t know,” Ignis answers, not sounding particularly thrilled about admitting it. “It could be due to the trial, or something else. I’m prepared to allow it if—” 

“We’ll go.” Lio interrupts before he can finish and doesn’t waver at the look he’s given over the rim of Ignis’ sunglasses. “When?” 

“When” turns out to be the next day. Galo wears the same uniform that he’d worn when Kray had pinned the medal on his chest, which feels...petty, but Lio’s lips turn up just faintly when he steps out of the bedroom in it. 

The ride is mostly in silence; they’re both covered mostly head to toe so there’s no danger of the Burnish flares being obvious on the ride. Both of them are swept for weapons, which Galo kind of appreciates if it weren’t for the knowledge that if they tried, they could likely summon them. While waiting to be let into the containment room, Lio’s hands clench and unclench, gloves creaking faintly with each movement until Galo reaches his hand down and squeezes one gently. “We’re just going to talk to him,” he offers, trying to confirm that _that’s_ what they’re doing. 

For an awful moment, Lio looks at him, eyes blazing and Galo thinks oh, no. They’re not going to talk at all, this is revenge, this is something else entirely, and then that blaze is gone, blinked away. Lio Fotia is back, not the leader of the Mad Burnish, who nearly destroyed the entire city in his rage for what Kray has done. “We’re just going to talk,” Lio says, and Galo kind of, mostly believes him. 

They’re led into a room that doesn’t look much like a prison cell at all, especially when Galo considers the room he was kept in, or the facilities that the Burnish were kept in. It’s all clean, white walls, a white desk with polished metal chairs. The unfairness of it makes Galo’s skin itch, and he can’t imagine what Lio’s thinking right now after how all of the Burnish were treated. 

Kray doesn’t look ruffled in the slightest; his hair is perfectly swept back, his jumpsuit clean, crisp, ironed white lines like he’s not in prison. He’s sorting through paperwork when they come in, barely acknowledging them as his pen scratches across the paperwork, signing something. 

Next to him, Lio is a line of barely leashed fury. 

“You wanted to see us, Gov—” Galo starts, choking on the words because they’re _habit_, it’s years and years and years of habit ingrained in him but he’s not the governor any longer he’s just Kray Foresight, war criminal. “Foresight.” 

He makes them wait a moment more and then idly sets the pen down, folding his hands together, chin resting on top of them. Every motion is deliberate, slow, like he has all the time in the world. 

“I’ve heard how busy the both of you have been,” Kray says mildly, like he’s talking about nothing but the weather. His eyes slit open, but the faint smile on his face is the same as ever. It used to be comforting; now it just feels like he’s laughing at a joke Galo doesn’t understand yet. “The interim governor is trying to pass legislation to give a portion of my estate to ex-Burnish as part of a resettlement package. Your doing, I assume.” 

He’s not talking to Galo, but to Lio, and stupidly he wants to stand in between them, to keep Kray from looking at Lio like that. At all. “We’re leaving,” Lio spits, instead of an answer. “This was pointless.” 

If it was his choice, he’s not sure that Lio would have agreed so Galo’s relieved that Lio says it. His hand lifts for a salute before he aborts the motion, jerky and uncertain, turning to follow Lio until Kray speaks again. 

“Did none of you ever wonder exactly how the Promare found themselves at the center of Earth’s core 30 years ago?” Kray calls, just as Lio’s hand touches the handle of the door. There’s a low hum when they stop, like it’s just what he expected them to do. “I’m not surprised that Galo hasn’t, but you… well.” 

It’s just the right bait to get Lio to turn, Galo realizes. The insults sting, but Galo’s lost enough respect for him that he knows better than to take it to heart. Lio, on the other hand… 

“Are you going to say anything worthwhile?” Lio asks acidically, but he’s not moving and Kray smiles a little wider. 

Galo has the awful feeling that they’re stuck like fish on a line; if they don’t leave now — 

“So you aren’t,” disdain drips from Lio’s voice but he’s not moving. 

Kray hums again, hands folded on top of the desk. “I won’t be in this room forever. You should know that.” Slowly, he leans forward, elbows propped on the desk, the red of his eyes molten like the lava at the center of the Earth’s core. “Are you _certain_ you were as successful as you hoped at eliminating all of the Promare?” 

He knows. He knows _he knows. _

Galo sucks in a breath and instinctively reaches for Lio’s arm when he starts forward, which is absolutely the wrong thing to do. Lio’s hands ignite in a blaze and when he flicks his wrist, the sword is in his hand. He looks like an avenging angel, hair floating, covered in sparks and flares, standing between Galo and Kray, straining against the firm grip that Galo has on him. 

“As I thought,” Kray’s head tilts and then he stands, slowly, deliberately. Even imprisoned, he seems larger than life, broad shoulders, massive hands that slowly spread out and then energy gathers around them, white and blue flames licking over his wrists. The paperwork on his desk goes up in a blaze, so fast and fierce that not even ash remains and then just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone and there’s a knock at the door. “Ah. Our time is up. I’ll see both of you soon.” 

Lio’s sword vanishes with barely enough time before the door whooshes open and Ignis fills the doorway. “Time to go.” 

Galo can feel those molten red eyes on him long after the door shuts. 

🔺🔻🔺

The day goes to shit from there. 

The roster of the dead is finalized all these months later, and Lio spends the rest of his day navigating the political minefield of trying to do what he can for the dead who don’t have anyone else to speak for them. One of Kalti’s men meets with him, and Lio is nearly bites his head off when he suggests that maybe they ought to just cordon off a part of the territory and stick all of the Burnish there. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Ignis keeps giving him looks at the station like he’s weighing something he wants to say and Galo has a sneaking suspicion that he knows not all of the Promare are gone, too, but hasn’t said anything about it yet. 

By the end of the day, exhaustion hangs heavily over both of them and the ride home is silent. They eat leftovers and go through their nightly routine; Lio’s been better about leaving him hot water but when Galo steps into the shower before bed, it’s lukewarm at best. Showering quickly, he changes into a loose pair of sweats and pads straight into the bedroom where Lio’s already bundled under the covers. 

“Move over,” Galo says gently, unnecessarily, sliding underneath the covers, lifting an arm up in invitation. 

Lio tugs the blankets over both of their heads, plunging the room into darkness. After a moment of squirming under the sheets, a thigh slides solidly between Galo’s, leg hooking over his and Lio’s face presses into the curve of his throat. Kindly, Galo doesn’t say anything about how Lio’s frame shudders when he drags a breath in, nor about the way his hands are fisted against Galo’s back.

He’s not meant for the kind of delicacy that Lucia is so good at when she’s fixing machines. Lio wouldn’t thank him for delicacy, anyway, so he doesn’t try for it. Instead, he spreads one of his hands against the small of Lio’s back and shifts them just enough that he can scoot his arm under Lio’s head and tuck him in close against his chest. His chin hooks over Lio head and he scrunches his nose when some of his hair winds up tickling his face, half in his mouth. 

“Kray intended for us to kill you, just as he was killing so many others,” Lio says finally, after achingly long moments of nothing but the shuddery intake of each breath, the hitch as he fought to control it. That’s not what Galo expects him to say and it’s only when he speaks that Galo realizes Lio’s not sad, he’s _angry_. With the blanket covering their heads, Galo can see the way the dark space between them lights up in vivid pinks and blues when Lio exhales. 

“But you didn’t!” Galo cuts in quickly when it’s clear that Lio isn’t continuing. He can’t imagine how it feels to see the roster, page after page of Burnish who were exterminated during Kray’s tests, during the reign of the Freeze Force. Having to see that directly after their meeting with Kray is even worse.

Knowing that the list was as complete as they would ever get it was the worst part of it; they had an entirely different list for those who had passed but no one knew their names. Galo doesn’t know how to reconcile the man that was responsible for all of this with the man who still intended to save ten thousand lives, who he had spent so long thinking the world of. All that brilliance, power, and ability to change the world and this is what his legacy is, now. “You _wouldn’t_! I know that, and in the world we’re building, so will everyone else. I’ll climb to the top of the Rescuemobile and yell it on each mission we go on! You are _nothing like h—_” 

Lio’s hand lifts and presses over his mouth, less a delicate shushing and more the entirety of his fingers over his lips, palm pushing his jaw shut. Galo shuts up, mostly because it’s either that or bite his tongue, and when his mouth closes he tastes ozone and realizes that he was doing the same thing Lio was, emotions manifesting as flames. While they still hadn’t figured out how to adequately use the Promare intentionally on their own, it was easier and easier to use it when they were touching. Too easy, sometimes.

“You’re so — shut _up_, you brute.” Lio commands and Galo is really tempted to talk just to spite him because he was trying to help. “I have enough anger to be furious for what he did to the Burnish, and for what he did to you. He wasn’t worthy of your respect or admiration. _I_ will be.”

He’s looking up at Galo, now, too, which Galo can _see_ because Lio’s eyes are glowing faintly, luminous purples, pinks and blues against green. Do _his_ eyes do that when he’s upset? He’s seen Burnish powers manifest from people’s eyes and mouths before, but it was always an awful, unintentionally violent thing where they had they lost control. This just feels as if he’s a cup filled to bursting, sloshing over a little each time his soul burns. The power’s there, gathering at every point they touch but it feels like a promise more than a threat. Is he supposed to talk now? Lio was the one upset and Galo desperately, terribly wants to make him feel better but here they are those positions reversed. 

“_Well_?” Lio’s voice breaks through the silence, impatient. 

Yeah, so he was supposed to. 

“You told me to shut up! And you complain I never listen. I _do_.” It’s just half the time he ignores it or considers it a suggestion. Galo pulls the covers from over their heads so they can breathe and he can actually look at Lio’s face properly. He doesn’t seem upset anymore, which is an improvement but more of a relief is the determine jut of his jaw, the way he meets Galo’s eyes without hesitation, challenging. He knocks their foreheads together a little harder than he intends to, meeting Lio’s glowing eyes with his own. “You _are_ worthy of it already. That’s why everyone follows you without thinking twice! I would shout about that, too, if—” 

Lio’s hand presses to his mouth again, stilling the passionate flow of words. “Don’t. Not today, Galo.” 

He wants to argue it but can’t bring himself to do so, not when he knows it’ll just hurt Lio even if he intends for the opposite. Besides, he said _not today_, not “not ever”. Galo intends to make sure there are countless days after that he tells Lio how worthy he is. Kray didn’t deserve Galo’s love and affection, let alone his respect or admiration but there’s never been anyone else in the world who has deserved it more than Lio, Galo’s certain of that. 

“I’ll keep doing my best to continue to be worthy of it,” Lio says finally, fingers slipping away down Galo’s chin, over his throat, lines of heat trailing down until his hand rests over where Galo’s heart is doing overtime in his chest. 

Galo desperately wants to kiss him again, now that he’s awake for it but doesn’t want to turn this toward him any more than he has already. Lio shoulders enough expectations on his shoulders without Galo adding to the weight with his own. This is enough, this would always be enough even if it was all he experienced. They’ll talk about it eventually. 

“You already are, but I know you're just going to keep being _more_ worthy every day,” Galo says finally, and hopes that it’s the right thing to say. He’s not sure if it is, but Lio doesn’t respond afterward, hiding his face back underneath Galo’s chin. 

Somehow, eventually, he falls asleep and when he wakes up in the morning, Lio’s in the living room with a steaming cup of coffee, reading the tablet like the last day never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had fifty million unanswered questions at the end of this movie, so this is basically my attempt at A) answering them and B) making up shit to go along. 
> 
> i love...worldbuilding... 
> 
> thank you for all the comments last chapter holy shit? i was not expecting that kind of response and it's very lovely!!!


	3. backdraft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey we made it!!! really thanks so much for all the kind words, i haven't written fic in so long but this fandom has been so kind and i'm so glad! i really hope you enjoy it. i had a blast writing it and i would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> anyway Things Important To Me in this chapter:  
-lucia/lio gremlin friendship  
\- boots  
\- lio, at least 3 times during this chapter: oh my god he's an idiot i can't not fuck him  
\- lio backstory which i'm making up because what the fuck, this dude just rolled out into the mad max desert and was like yo, i'm taking over your gang now, also: no killing.

On average, Galo thinks about kissing Lio seven to nine times a day. 

It ebbs and flows according to how busy things are. Initially, they’re not even around each other that often during the day and go to bed right away at night; Lio helps out with the Burnish resettlement project along with working with Burning Rescue. Now that things have calmed down, he thinks about it more and more. 

They still haven’t figured out how many others have Burnish powers yet, but by now both of Lio’s generals have flickers of theirs. The general consensus is that some of them stayed, but with the loss of most of the Promare were weakened, which is why they couldn’t manifest easily. They don’t need physical contact with each other to activate them, though, and never did. Galo’s not really sure what to think of that, and neither is Lio so he figures it’s not particularly helpful to ponder _ why them _ and instead turn their sights to something more useful like the hints that Kray had dropped when they’d met. 

Both Gueira and Meis are furious when they find out Kray still possesses his and Galo is at least eighty percent sure that when he walks in that day, they’re actively suggesting an assassination attempt before Lio shuts them down with a little less force than Galo’d really like.

Somehow, thinking about kissing Lio is the least confusing part of his day most of the time. There are countless opportunities for him to do it, but somehow, he just...never does. It’s kind of ridiculous, really, given that Lio stays in bed in the morning sometimes, even if he’s very nearly always the first of them awake. The mornings where he wakes up to his head pillowed on Lio's chest, a hand tracing idly back and forth over the scarring on his arm while Lio reads through the news are some of his favorites.

Galo could, in theory, roll over and steal a kiss from him and Lio would probably complain about morning breath. See, he’s pretty sure Lio would kiss him back, given that they’re doing...this. Whatever this is, where they live together, sleep in the same bed and Galo makes breakfast every morning. But they haven’t kissed yet past the first time (does it even count?) and he’s not going to push Lio into it and risk breaking this tentative, fragile thing they have between them. 

They ride to work together three days a week, when Lio’s shifts at the Burnish resettlement site aren’t scheduled and instead he comes help the team put out fires. He might not be as physically strong as Varys or Galo but he’s incredible with logistics in particular, and their team is so lucky to have him. Lucia, in particular, seems to like working with him, going over Matoi gear edits with Lio’s intimate knowledge of fire. 

Wednesday mornings, they all come in early to make breakfast in the tiny Burning Rescue lunch room. They alternate who cooks based on the week it is, and this week is Varys’ turn which means breakfast is going to be _ amazing _. 

It’s been a week since their conversation with Kray and the secrecy of it is killing Galo; he just wants to tell Ignis, because he’s not _ meant _ to keep secrets and he’s _ pretty sure _Ignis already knows. 

Lio’s driven them this morning; he’d won the argument about who gets to drive by being the first one out onto the bike one morning and now they just alternate because it’s easier. Selfishly, Galo likes it: likes fitting himself up against Lio from behind, likes the way Lio leans back into his weight when they take corners just a little too sharp, likes how Lio drives absurdly fast on the long, empty stretches of road, likes how when they get off the bike on those rides, Lio beams at him, open and honest and oh, _oh_, Galo adores him.

Every time they get off the motorcycle, Galo thinks about kissing him. Lio’s hair spills out from under the helmet, longer than it used to be, brushing his shoulders. In the early morning sunlight, breath fogging faintly in the air, eyes bright after a ridiculously fast ride, he looks incredible. Galo wants to turn around and take him home and crawl back under the covers, but also wants to lean in kiss him against the bike, and _ then _ take him back home.

Neither of those are working options, realistically, so Galo settles instead for a third option and slings his arm around Lio’s shoulder, taking exaggerated steps to make him hurry his pace just a little bit. “Come on, come on!! Varys’ food is going to be gone if we don’t get in there.” 

There will be plenty of food, because Varys doesn’t know how not to cook a ton of food and there are even more mouths to feed these days. Lio knows that as well as Galo does, but the prodding works; Lio matches his pace and they duck inside to the smell of breakfast cooking, and cheerful shouting from the kitchen. Lio ducks away to take a cup of coffee that Meis holds out for him and Galo hovers across the stove with Lucia and Aina, stealing bites of what Varys is cooking because he can’t stop _ all _of them when they’re a united front, six hands versus two. 

Usually (okay, _conservatively)_ the fourth time he thinks about it is when they’re riding on a mission together. Lio is pouring through blueprints and taking stock of the situation through Lucia and Aina’s surveying work before giving instructions to them on how to move their mechs through the debris given how the building will respond to the varying levels of heat. While he’s reading, his brows furrow, his lower lip gets tugged between his teeth and he mouths particularly interesting lines or words to himself. All of it is transmitted over the comms and Galo wonders if he can get away with screencapping it. 

On the way back from another successful mission, he throws himself into the seat next to Lio in the back of the truck, leaning over his shoulder annoyingly to see what it is that he’s reading this time instead of sliding fingers under his chin to tip it up and kiss him for a job well done. 

“You’ll be bored,” Lio warns, flipping to the next page. “Go bother Aina, I’m almost done reading this and you’re distracting.” 

Galo puffs his cheeks out in response, but, yeah, that’s fair. Lio shoots him the barest smile over the top of the book, kicking him gently and Galo laughs as he makes his way over to Aina instead, both of them pulling out their phones to play the latest game she’s made all of them install to thoroughly trounce them at. Lio is wholly engrossed in his book, but Galo keeps glancing over until Aina’s foot lands solidly on his and she jerks her chin at Lio, eyebrows raised. 

They’ve known each other long enough that they’re almost good at the kind of silent conversations that need to happen sometimes, but neither of them are particularly great at _ silent _ . Galo shrugs, thumb punching the attack button repeatedly, watching Aina start gesturing in a clear _ well? _ motion. He doesn’t know what to tell her, so he shrugs and yelps when she crushes his foot again in response. 

“Don’t make the Captain pull the truck over,” Lucia calls from the other end of the truck, unbothered by the twin betrayed looks that both Aina and Galo send her. 

It’s just, he’s not sure _ what _ to say. That’s a problem that’s only manifested recently, ever since all of this started. He never used to doubt himself, and while this isn’t quite _ doubt _ it sure feels like it. It’s...caution, maybe. Lio makes him want to be careful in a way he’s not exactly experienced in but he’s _ trying. _

In the end, it isn’t Galo who makes the first move. 

Ignis pulls them aside once they’re back, arms crossed, and all it takes is the door closing before Galo is _ talking _, telling him everything despite the way Lio sighs in frustration at his side. He was right; Ignis had suspected, because Galo’s never been great at subtlety or hiding things even if Lio is. 

Ignis has been aware of Kray’s power, too, or at least anticipated it. He was too complacent at being locked away and he isn’t the sort of man who accepts defeat gracefully. With the secret out, the rest of the team gathers, Meis and Gueira included and this time Lio seems a little miffed that no one is...particularly shocked that they still possess Promare. 

“Galo’s never been subtle a day in his life,” Lucia points out, which, fair. 

Once the meeting is over and they’re heading home, Galo feels a little stupid for having waited so long to say anything. They’re a team, they’re _ stronger _ when they’re a team and now with it all out there, Galo finally feels a little more certain in what they’re doing. Lucia points out that if the Promare are sentient, it’s entirely possible that those who stayed did so intentionally, especially if they’re interconnected _ and _Kray’s has stayed too. 

When Heris had asked exactly how he managed to merge with the Promare earlier, Galo had been the one to flinch, remembering just how light Lio had been when he was pulled from the wreckage of the pod Kray had lashed him to, half his body burned to ash. Any way but that. 

They (along with Meis and Gueira) are sent home for the weekend with the instructions to try and figure out exactly how to connect to the Promare again, which seems like it’s easier said than done. 

“If we knew how to do this, we would have already,” Galo complains, bumping the door open with his hip, flinging his boots and gloves off across the hall where they fall neatly next to each other. Beside him, Lio’s starting on unbuckling his boots but Galo’s _ impatient _ to get to work _ , _ so he kneels down and steals one of Lio’s legs to rest on his thigh, working on the buckles to help. Only when Lio’s hands _ stop _ moving does he look up, confused. His hand flattens against the curve of Lio’s calf, holding gently. “Oh! Did you want to keep them on?”

“No,” Lio manages, looking for a moment like he’s torn on what to do. He’s not undoing his boots anymore, though, so Galo continues and gently slides it off one foot before patting his thigh to get the other up there and start working on it next. He’s still not particularly good at things requiring a lot of dexterity or gentleness, but he _ likes _ doing this. The leather is warm under his hands and he’s spent enough time watching Lio do them up that he knows the proper order to get them undone easily. The boot on his thigh shifts, heel pressing harder and Galo looks up, startled and a little breathless. “You’re almost done.” 

For some reason, _ that’s _ what makes the perpetually banked heat inside his belly blaze to a roar. Thank God his pants are baggy as all hell because all the blood rushes south traitorously and leaves him with precious little to remember how these absurd boots work. Two more buckles and then he fits his hand to the front and heel, gently sliding it off, placing it with the other. It feels absurd, kneeling in his tiny hallway with Lio looking down at him, but he can’t seem to bring himself to move and Lio’s not pushing past him for a bath like he normally does. He is sort of in the way, he supposes; the hallway is a little narrow. Just as he starts to push himself up to move, Lio’s sock-clad foot plants itself in the center of Galo’s chest and shoves him back down effortlessly. 

He goes down, kneeling again and curves his hand around the line of Lio’s ankle, holding it because he’s not sure what _ else _ to do since he’s evidently not allowed to get up. This isn’t Promare research, either, as far as he’s aware but maybe Lio knows something he doesn’t? He knows a lot of things that Galo doesn’t, actually, so that’s not saying much. Lightly, he drags his thumb over the dip between leather pants and low socks, smoothing over the delicate skin there and is rewarded by an audible, shuddery breath in from above him. He doesn’t really think of Lio as delicate in any sense, but holding his ankle like this, Galo’s swept up in the same unstoppable feelings he gets when firefighting: the urge to _ protect. _

“I need to return something,” Lio says finally, like it’s an effort just to get the words out. He’s not even the one being stepped on right now, jeez. “Then we need to...figure this out.” 

“Um,” Galo strains to think about what he could possibly mean, and then remembers the hoodie that he absolutely hasn’t been able to wear since the very first day Lio came home with him. “Oh! You can keep it!” 

He can always get another one and the sight of Lio in it more than makes up for lacking a hoodie; he doesn’t really _ need _ one these days, anyway. Lio doesn’t look nearly as pleased at the idea of it as Galo expects, though. 

“You are an idiot,” Lio mutters, and Galo has just a moment to feel Lio’s leg flex before he’s knocked back onto his ass, legs akimbo while Lio settles himself on top of him. It’s not so dissimilar from the last time this happened; he’s not any better at figuring what to do with his hands or his legs. He probably ought to apologize for being hard, even if it’s not exactly intentional; there’s no way that Lio’s _ not _ going to notice.   
  
“I,” Galo starts, not sure whether or not he’s going to agree, apologize or argue in that moment, only to be stopped when both of Lio’s hands cup his face and their noses are pressed together. Cautiously, because he’s realized they’re not talking about the hoodie _ at all _. “What are you returning?” 

“Idiot,” Lio says again, but this time it’s low and warm and laced with affection before he leans in and tilts Galo’s chin up, kissing him. It’s nothing like CPR, nothing like desperately willing the flames banked in his chest to slide out with each breath and into Lio, healing him in a desperate gambit to save his life. 

Galo’s lips are parted in surprise which makes it all the easier for Lio’s head to tilt, mouth sliding over his. There’s _ tongue _ , the scrape of teeth over his bottom lip and Galo makes a low, shocked noise into the kiss that’s swallowed up, too, hands groping furiously for purchase, flames sputtering from his palms. One settles low on the small of Lio’s back and the other curls tightly into the material of his shirt, tugging him in close because he’s been thinking about this for _ ages, _ and if this is the only time he gets to do it he’s going to make sure it’s _ good _. 

“Wait,” Galo gasps as soon as he realizes what it was that Lio is returning. “_ You remembered?” _

Something like realization is dawning on Lio’s face, only to be quickly covered by incredulity. “You thought I _ didn’t _?” 

“You never said anything!” 

“I slept in _ your bed _ , every night! Since the _first night._” 

Galo desperately wants to point out that, yes, they _ slept _ , and sure they cuddled but there was a clear and definable difference between that and anything else. He could point that out, or he could do the _ smart _ thing which is to use the flames like a rocket boost, pushing both of them up in a rush. He catches Lio easily, sliding a hand under his thigh to scoop him up and hold him more securely and starts power-walking to the bedroom, while Lio stares down at him, cheeks flushed, hair mussed. Galo is gonna kiss him _so fucking much. _“I’m gonna kiss you again,” Galo warns, and Lio nods furiously.

They make it halfway before Galo sandwiches him between his body and a wall and makes good on the promise, their teeth clacking together until he manages to change the angle and licks into Lio’s mouth. The legs around his waist go tight, holding him in place and Galo uses his newly freed hands to slide up the warm leather of Lio’s thighs, already working on the buckles to his vest, fingers suddenly fumblingly clumsy where they weren’t before. 

The certainty that he could concentrate and just...melt the metal away is there and tempting, if it weren’t for the fact that Lio would probably kill him for doing it and Galo is still not exactly excited at the idea of being the one starting fires. Galo gets the second undone and _ that _ reveals the zipper that goes to one of his belts, which he yanks down with probably a little more force than is necessary. Lio’s clothes are like a puzzle but he is _ nothing _ if not determined. 

“Galo,” Lio rasps between another series of kisses, heel pressing sharply into the small of Galo’s back. He’s about to say something and then Galo’s hand manages to push itself under leather and cloth and he slides his palm up over Lio’s chest, greedy, thumb dragging intentionally over a nipple. Lio makes a noise like all the air has been sucked out of the room, thighs clenching tight around his waist and then fists a hand in Galo’s hair, pulling him back from the next messy set of kisses. This time, it’s Galo who groans, startled, cut off at Lio’s abrupt order of: “Stop.” 

Even if he didn’t sound so serious, Galo would, and does, in a heartbeat. His hand slithers out from under Lio’s shirt and the other hand at his thigh goes back to supporting him, rather than copping a feel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks earnestly, because he really, really doesn’t want to do this unless Lio wants to but he also isn’t entirely certain that the hesitance isn’t because Lio overthinks about _ everything_. “Should I put you down? I can put you down!” 

“No. Yes.” Lio pulls a face and gentles the hand in his hair, a gloved hand stroking through it, running over the undercut. Galo shivers. “We’re going to the bedroom.” 

That… is confusing, because that was the original intent, but Galo’s willing to go along with it. Lio is gently set down on the ground, and the hand that was in his hair hooks in the harnesses on Galo’s pants, using them like a leash to guide him to the bedroom. He’s kind of into it, unwilling to examine just what that means at the moment in favor of closing the bedroom door, plunking himself on the bed, legs spread, elbows on his knees. 

Lio doesn’t come any closer after releasing the straps, instead leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying to feign nonchalance, but his shirt is still open and the strip of skin revealed is upsettingly distracting. He's also, Galo notes, hard inside the leather of his pants. Galo wants to trace his mouth over the swell of him, but they're apparently doing this talking thing, so he tables that idea for later.

“I think Kray was insinuating that the Promare were responsible for causing the rift,” Lio says carefully, digging his teeth into his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “I think it was _ Kray’s _ Promare that caused the rift to the parallel universe.” 

That...probably is meant to have more weight than it does when it’s said to Galo, who simply blinks, considering it. Sure. Yeah, that makes sense, but why would the Promare want to leave their universe and come here? They don’t really know a lot about their planet past that it was a star, but maybe… 

“Well, Earth _ is _ pretty amazing. Especially since we saved it.” Galo’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “It makes sense that maybe they’d want to come here? Didn’t they live on a star? You can’t have lakes, or trees, or pizza or anything on a star. Maybe they got bored of it and tried to come somewhere they could.” 

Lio’s looking at him with an unreadable expression and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, yet, so he keeps going. “Think about it! You come to a planet but you don’t have a body and there’s all this great stuff.” They don’t even have hands. That sucks. “They wouldn’t even have _ thumbs _.” 

“Shut _ up, _” Lio says desperately, even as he’s stalking forward, shoving Galo back against the bed with a bounce, crawling up after him, predatory. “The most infuriating thing about you is that you’re probably right.”

“Thanks!” Galo blinks up at him, not sure if he’s allowed to put his hands back on Lio or if they’re still going to be debating the hows and whys of Promare intent while he’s straddled on the bed. “So—” 

“I can’t — connect with the Promare like I did before. I’m not even sure there are enough left to connect with.” Lio admits in a low rush, cutting off whatever Galo was going to suggest. He plants a hand on Galo’s bare chest, over where his heart and then turns it over, flames gathered in his palm, licking over the leather covering his fingers. “The closest I get is when we touch, but it’s stronger with more skin contact—” 

“The more skin contact, the more you’re able to use your Burnish abilities and talk to the Promare!” Oh, _ oh, _ he gets it. Hypothetically, if they were both naked, then they’d be able to connect better with the Promare? And then they could find out everything _ and _probably how to stop Kray all at once. 

“Yes,” Lio draws the word out slowly, frowning down at him which _ really _ isn’t the look that Galo was going for when he’d imagined Lio talking about getting naked, in his bed. “You don’t understand. This...might answer those questions, but I didn’t want — I wanted them separate. My want for you is not contingent on finding an answer.” 

Oh. He adores Lio, but for once he’s secure in his knowledge that thinking too much actually _ isn’t _ helpful sometimes. Slowly, he reaches a hand up and cups the nape of Lio’s neck, drawing him down until his hair falls in a curtain around their faces and they’re sharing air, lips just shy of touching. “I don’t know if this helps or not, but I want you. And, if it helps stop Kray and fixes this, then that’s even better, right?” 

“How is it so easy for you?” Lio fits a hand to the side of Galo’s face and then his fingers drift up, curving over his ear, sliding over where his undercut has started to grow out; he hasn’t had time to get it trimmed. 

“Which, uh, which part?” It’s extremely hard to try and have a conversation when Lio’s half on him, kissing close but _ not kissing him_, but he’s going to try because Lio wants to. He runs back over the conversation in his head and then beams. “Oh! Wanting you?” 

_ What, _ Lio starts, eyes going wide but Galo’s already continuing. “That’s _ easy_. I mean, I thought you were amazing when you were sitting on the throne! That was cool, seeing what the Burnish could do outside of, you know— _ pchoo!” _ His hands lift from Lio’s body to gesture as he makes a sound effect for fire, yelping when fire actually does sprout from his hands. Lio sinks back, which is kind of not awesome at first because Galo still super wants to kiss him but he _ is _ sitting on where Galo’s cock is stiff in his pants and the friction is nice. “It didn’t start there, because I still thought you guys were bad guys,which, I know better now! Then I knew, when we were in the cave!”

“The cave? After we tried to rescue everyone.” Lio’s voice doesn’t have any inflection in it, but he’s not leaving, so Galo barrels forward, sliding his hands to curl around Lio’s waist, breath catching when his fingers touch, fitting around Lio’s waist easily. Oh. Oh, wow. Okay. Lio’s next word is an exhale, almost a laugh. “Galo.” 

“_The cave_,” Galo continues valiantly, even with 90% of his blood absolutely not anywhere near his brain at this point. “You didn’t kill me. You didn’t even hit me that hard, I’ve hit myself _ way _ harder before. You tied me up and the way you were treating everyone, well. That’s when I knew I think? You had all of these people to protect. If you were like Kray thought you were, then you should've killed me to protect them, right? You had to know I called for backup. But you didn’t. You took all of them somewhere safe and then Aina came and grabbed me and…” 

Lio’s just looking at him, both hands splayed on Galo’s pecs. Jury’s still out on whether or not Lio can read his mind but if he can it's really bullshit it doesn't go both ways, because Galo doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He looks kind of like Lucia does when she’s calculating these huge math problems about metal’s ability to withstand heat and pressure, which is just waaaay above his paygrade.

“Anyway. Now I know you guys weren’t actually trying to hurt anyone, I think it was the throne when I started... The armor, the flames,” Galo brings his knees up, planting his feet against the bed and presses fingers to the center of Lio’s chest, beaming at him when he leans back. It’s not the same position, of course, but the red of Galo’s pants looks good against all that black leather and pale skin and Galo desperately wants to lick a line down the curve of his belly, unfasten his pants. 

“When we let you capture us, to free the rest of the Burnish,” Lio says, nodding, still looking like he’s considering all of this rather than considering how they’re going to both get naked when he’s sitting on Galo like this. 

“Wait. _ You _ LET ME _ catch you? _ To rescue everyone? That’s not… _ Liooo.” _

“It’s _ genuinely _ impressive how you manage to focus on the least important part of all of that.” Lio trails leather-covered fingers down the center of Galo’s chest, a line of fire sliding down after it. He’s a _ jerk_, because when that line of fire dips close to the line of hair that peeks out from under Galo’s pants, he keeps going even as Galo sucks a breath. It doesn’t burn, he knows it’s not going to burn _ but still,_ Fire! Delicate areas! “The armor. The flames. The throne.” 

It sounds almost filthy when Lio says it in that considering tone, each word punctuated with a tap of his fingers against Galo’s chest. 

Stupidly, Galo continues, “The bike was cool, too.” Because it _ was_. His knees spread a little bit and Lio takes the hint, reclining back against them, his legs stretched wide over Galo’s waist. It puts the swell of his cock in those leather pants so close and obvious that Galo’s mouth waters, but Lio hasn’t told him he _ can_, so he holds off. 

“What were you thinking about when I was on the throne?” Lio asks, just to watch Galo squirm underneath him, apparently. They haven’t kissed in what feels like forever, and Lio is just. Sitting on his dick, casually, tapping his fingers across Galo’s chest, trailing little lines of fire across it easy as you please. “Tell me.” 

“_Lio,_” Galo whines, which isn’t very manly but also, he’s about 80% sure that if Lio starts grinding on him he’s going to come in his pants and he _ just did laundry_. “I don’t know, everything?” 

He’s only a man and he only has so much self-control when presented with Lio sitting on top of him, shirt open like that, so his hands move without him telling them to. One curves over the line of Lio’s thigh and the other fits itself to the nape of Lio’s neck, tugging gently in invitation. 

“The armor,” Lio repeats, mildly contemplative. This time, he feels it, the way that Lio starts unspooling the fire inside of both of them. Armor blooms, creeping up from Lio’s ankles, licking up his knees, sliding over his thighs until it settles into place like some kind of slick, hard, black Jello almost. A moment later it bleeds over his hands, replacing the leather with those claws from earlier, black and pulsing as it settles up just past his elbows. “Like this?” 

Galo can’t breathe. It’s simultaneously the hottest and most ridiculous thing that he’s ever seen in his _life_ because the whole goal of this was to get naked since skin contact is what activates the Promare, but, but— 

A clawed hand pats his cheek, minorly condescending if it weren’t for the tiny smile on Lio’s face. “Yes?” 

“Yes?” Galo repeats, basically a shouted question, sliding his hands over the armor curiously, feeling where the breaks are for Lio to bend his limbs up over where it fits to his waist, tracing the line of it idly. There’s no helmet, which is kind of a bummer but a helmet makes it hard to kiss him (not that they’re _ doing any kissing right now, jeez)_. “Hey, wait, do you think I could have armor too?” 

Lio doesn’t answer, but it’s because he’s finally, fucking finally leaning down and pressing his mouth to Galo’s again, both clawed hands cupping his face, tongue hot as it slides between Galo’s lips. 

The hand carded in Lio’s hair sweeps back, just to watch the way his hair waterfalls around his head again, the glow of pink and blue highlighting it in jeweled tones. He keeps his eyes open when they kiss, not wanting to miss a moment of it and then Lio’s mouth is dragging itself free to start pressing biting little kisses down his throat, sucking a bruise against his pulse. It’s so hot Galo doesn’t know just what to do for a moment, hopelessly overwhelmed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. They could have been doing this for _ages_. 

Somehow, the button to his pants gets undone while they’re kissing, and then there’s a hot, clawed, armored hand settling itself over his bare cock, just barely stroking it and that's it. Stick a fork in him, he’s done, he’s _ done_. Galo makes a noise like he’s dying and comes in wet pulses over Lio’s hand and his belly, back arched. He’s pretty sure he blacks out, because one moment he’s there and the next, Lio’s laying over him like a large, semi-armored blanket, scraping his teeth over a nipple lazily. “Welcome back.” 

He’s not mortified, because the fact that he came so fast is really, mostly because Lio is A) cheating, and B) the most attractive person he’s ever seen in his _ life_, and he _ put his armored hand on Galo’s dick_. It is a little uncool; he had plans, like, not super long drawn out ones past _ make Lio come at least twice _ and _ get his dick in my mouth, sooner rather than later. _ But they were still _ plans; _this is the first time he’s done this.

_ “_Cheater,” Galo rasps once he remembers how lungs and breathing and talking work. Then a little more steadily, “You are _ such _a cheater, I was gonna—” 

Lio’s hand is on his dick again, a deliberate scrape of claws against his lower belly that makes Galo’s breath catch, utterly wrecking whatever he wanted to say in favor of trying to remember how to breathe. 

“You were going to…” Lio prompts, kindly, running a single finger down the underside of Galo’s spent dick, cupping his balls. They slide back further and Galo valiantly tries not to think about the fact that Lio’s hands are basically like a bunch of knife-fingers and they’re in a _ very delicate area_. Lio won’t hurt him, he knows that and that’s mostly why he doesn’t flip out or try to jerk away. The potential danger is, he’s realizing, part of the appeal. It feels a little like the thrill of diving straight into a burning building and knowing that he’s going to be able to handle it, that he’ll rescue anyone and everyone who needs him. 

Teeth scrape over a nipple and Galo groans, the end of it strangled as that finger presses lower and then _ in, _smooth and so warm it’s almost hot, opening him up just the barest bit. It slides out just a moment later, rubbing idle circles against his hole and Galo throws his arm over his face, panting, unable to look up at Lio right now or he's going to beg him to keep doing that and they are super lacking in the right supplies.

“You were going to,” Lio prompts _ again, _ because he’s an asshole and the moment Galo can form words he’s going to tell him that. 

“_Please_, put your dick in my mouth,” Galo rasps, all one rush of words as he curves both hands around Lio’s thighs and lifts him up, holding him effortlessly a few inches above so his hands don’t have such easy access to his dick or anywhere else that’s over-sensitive right now. Ha, there. “Is that okay? I have been thinking about it since—” 

“Shut up, shut up, come _ here_,” Lio hisses, and then there are armored knees on either side of Galo’s head, leather and armor parting until Lio’s cock bobs free, flushed pink and damp at the tip. “ _ Yes_, open your mouth.” 

An armored hand clenches in his hair, just shy of too tight and Galo leans forward eagerly, missing the first time, Lio’s cock sliding damp across his cheek so he makes do and mouths kisses along the bare skin of his belly, hungry. The second time goes better; Lio guides his cock in and Galo _ groans _ as it fills his mouth, cupping Lio’s hip to drag him in further. It’s too much too fast and he chokes a little around it but resolutely keeps going because he is _ not _ a quitter and he has been thinking about this _ forever _. 

Tears gather at the corners of his eyes as he tries to figure out exactly how this works; he doesn’t have his hands to use, just his mouth. He’s bendy but he’s never sucked himself off, so this requires a little bit of a learning curve. He can’t be fucking it up too bad, though, because above him, on either side of his head, Lio’s thighs are trembling and he’s gripping the headboard so tight that the claws are digging gouges of wood out of it. 

He can’t quite draw back how he expects to with the pillow behind his head so he gropes for it, tossing it across the room, and yeah, sure, the position is hell on his neck but Lio’s dick is in his mouth, hot and salty. Lio’s the one who drags him off while he’s still trying to figure out what works; his head is shoved back against the bed and Lio’s cock rests against his chin while Galo pants, mouth open for it. 

“Not really a throne, haha, but,” Galo starts to say because he’s just physically incapable of not saying something stupid at any given point in time. Lio uses the hand in his hair to guide him back down, slower this time, fucking into his mouth in slow, lazy rolls of his hips. He’s still not really sure what works best here but it seems like this is absolutely doing it for Lio, his cheeks flushed, pupils huge as he watches Galo’s mouth slide down the length of his cock, slow and filthy. 

Lio’s quiet during sex; he lets out little gasps when Galo sinks down and swallows around him, squirms when Galo’s fingers run up his thighs, squeeze his ass, but isn’t nearly as loud as Galo is. That’s fine, because it means Galo can spend ages trying to figure out exactly how to wring those noises out of him later when they aren’t also trying to do this for science-save-the-world-reasons. 

At least now he’s kind of got the hang of it; all he needs to do is keep his mouth open, work his tongue along the underside, suck a little when Lio lets the head linger and teases Galo, not letting him have anything else. When Lio drags his hips back, he mouths wetly over the tip, precome smearing over his lips before his mouth pressed is full again. Between his thighs, his cock is making a valiant attempt at fattening up again so he drops a hand down to start jerking himself off lazily, eyes sliding shut as Lio uses him how he likes. It’s incredible in a way he doesn’t expect; he knows exactly what to do and it’s so _ easy _ to do it, to let Lio take what he wants, how he wants it. 

“Oh, oh _ oh_,” the words sound like they’re dragged out of Lio as his hips jerk and then he slides forward, stuffing his cock into Galo’s mouth and okay, maybe he doesn’t have it as under control as he thinks because the hot spill of come into his mouth is a little overwhelming. He tries to swallow what he can but is only so successful, feeling it spill down his chin. He still needs to breathe but he’s not about to pull back while Lio’s thighs are trembling violently around his head. After a moment, Lio slides back, clumsier than Galo expects so he gently cups the back of his thighs and lifts him bodily back until he can lean back against Galo’s tented knees. 

It seems undignified to call it a sprawl, but that’s exactly what it is: Lio melts back against the brace provided, and his legs are splayed on either side of Galo’s shoulders, chest rising and falling rapidly. The flush from his cheeks goes all the way down to his neck, Galo realizes, reaching a hand up to trace the blotchy line of it with a lazy smile. He doesn’t...exactly feel any closer to the Promare, exactly, but he feels loose-limbed and content in a way he wasn’t expecting. There’s nothing but Lio’s leg close enough to kiss, so that’s what he does, tilting his head to press his lips against Lio’s armored leg, exhaling. A part of him expects the blades to be sharp but when he runs fingers across it, it's solid rather than something that would cut him. 

“You’re a mess,” Lio murmurs like he’s not also sticky with sweat and come. Slowly, he leans forward and swipes two fingers across the come on Galo’s cheek, slides them down and across until they fuck into his mouth lazily, pressing down on his tongue. They might not have connected with the Promare, but Lio’s apparently settled for doing his best to burn Galo from the inside out all the same.

Galo sucks them clean, tongue sliding across the hot black of the armor, groaning when Lio withdraws them. Is this normal? Is it normal to be so absolutely _ into _ everything that someone does? He doesn’t really have anything to base his experience on but he’s pretty sure Lio could crush his head with his thighs and he’d be like: wow, yes, thank you. This is great. 

When the fingers slide out of his mouth and start tracing his bottom lip, just a hint of sharpness back to them, Galo can finally talk. “Did you...feel any closer to the Promare? Did you talk to them?” He didn’t feel any closer to them, but he sure as hell felt closer to Lio, so it wasn’t all a wash. 

“No. It’s not… it isn’t like a conversation, like we have. We can try again later.” Lio’s voice is sleep-thick and lazy and Galo desperately wants to take care of him, wants to tuck him into bed and spoon him and play with his hair and listen to him talk about the city he wants to build. “Here.” 

There’s a moment where the fire flares bright around them, crawling over their skin and when it vanishes, he’s...clean. The kind of fine-tuned control that Lio has over the flames constantly amazes him; there’s no sweat, no come, nothing, he feels like he’s just stepped out of the shower, almost. That answers the question about how they kept clean out in the desert, he supposes. 

Above him, the armor dissipates until Lio’s in nothing but his clothes from earlier. He slides off and strips out of them next to the bed and Galo rolls onto his stomach, arm hanging off the couch to watch the graceful way he strips out of all of it. Once the pants are off and _ folded _ (he knew it, Lio would absolutely not let him toss his clothes on the ground, ugh) Galo reaches out and pats the curve of his bare ass just because it’s there, mashing a smile into the pillow when Lio jumps, batting at his hand. 

“Did you finish the laundry?” Lio asks, rummaging through one of the drawers to pull on a thicker pair of socks, sadly out of reach, flicking a flame at Galo which he pinches between two fingers and puts out, beaming.

“S’in the dryer. You don’t need to get dressed. I’ll keep you warm!” Galo shifts into the spot that Lio normally takes and lifts the blankets up in invitation. He knows Lio gets cold more often than he used to; stolen hoodies and thick socks are proof enough of that, but he _ also _ knows that when they’re in bed together, it’s the warmest place he can think of. They haven’t slept naked together, but the idea of it sounds pretty great if he’s being honest. 

For a moment, he wonders if Lio’s going to dress anyway, but rather than go padding naked through the house he heads over to the bed and crawls back up onto it, letting Galo drape himself over his body. 

He was right: this is great. There’s an expanse of bare skin for his hands to map, and he shamelessly covers Lio with his body, sliding a leg between his thighs, resting his head on top of Lio’s chest. He’s careful not to smother him, but Lio doesn’t seem to object. The blankets are tucked up around them and Lio’s heart is thudding fast and loud under his ear and Galo is so _ tired _ all of a sudden. They’ll have tomorrow to figure out how to contact the Promare, anyway. 

Lio’s hand fits itself to the curve of his head, winding into thick blue hair, scratching faintly across his scalp and that’s the last thing Galo remembers before falling asleep. 

🔺🔻🔺

Galo’s not sure when he thought it was going to happen but falling asleep and waking up in the middle of the void is...disorienting, to say the least. “_Hello_?” he shouts, cupping both hands to his mouth. 

“_What_?” Lio elbows him, unimpressed with the volume and Galo does his best not to shriek in surprise because that is not very manly or cool in the slightest. “It worked.” 

“Oh,” Galo says, and looks around, not quite sure what a sentient flame alien _ looks _ like, but not seeing anything that seems like it would be one. Only when he turns around and sees Lio staring at him does he look down, realizing his chest is lit up in tones of pink and blue. He’s past the point of flipping out, thinking he’s on fire, which is _ good_, but it’s still jarring to look down and see himself _ actively on fire. _ “_Lio_!” 

“Relax,” Lio murmurs, reaching out to press his hand against Galo’s bare chest. The flames recede, bit by bit, drawn around Lio’s hand until they’re pressed into him. All that pale skin lights up like he’s holding all of the Promare underneath his skin, glowing in the void around them. 

Galo’s already pretty sure Lio is the most beautiful person he’s ever met in his life, but this really solidifies it. Already, the blaze contained under his skin starts to fade to a slow hum, matching to his and Lio’s heartbeat. 

“So, how do we,” Galo starts, only to have his question answered as soon as he starts to voice it. The Promare don’t communicate in words, he realizes. It’s impressions, thoughts and feelings and memories that they’ve experienced, twisted to fit the answer. _ How do we ask it questions_, Galo thinks, and the question is played back at him. 

Like that, then. 

He has too many questions for how limited their time probably is, so he looks to Lio, letting him handle this part. 

“How do we stop Kray Foresight?” Lio asks, no hesitation. 

The power thrumming between them pauses a moment, and then shows them part of an answer. The rift’s creation, Kray’s Promare’s attaching to one person, then the next and the next, all of whom burned out before they lasted too long. Then last, Kray, stumbling down the street, burnish spasms making him stagger and then the image shudders. Instead of the outside perspective, it’s Galo’s memory. 

The terror at all of the smoke, his attempts at trying to save something, anything, to bring it outside before it went up in flames. Running outside, straight into Kray, sobbing and practically hyperventilating as his body dealt with crying, panic, and smoke inhalation all at once. Kray looks down at the steaming stump where his arm used to be, to where Galo is trembling, sobbing into his chest, and then at the house, burning behind them. The flames around him subside, but the ones in the house burn even brighter, and Kray’s expression goes from calculating to _ hungry. _

Lio’s quiet for a long moment, just watching Galo, who rubs the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Sorry?” he tries, only for Lio to grab his hand and squeeze it, shaking his head. 

Just as quickly as it starts, the memory fades and they’re shown the warp gate from the perspective of those lashed to the batteries, Kray watching from behind impenetrable glass, expressionless. The view shifts to the Promare star, which...doesn’t really answer the question as far as Galo’s concerned, but Lio nods like he understands. 

The second question comes after another beat of hesitation, like Lio’s working over how to phrase it. “How did you choose us?” 

There’s the Promare star again, burning too brightly for Galo to look at, and then the rift that all of them went through in an attempt to stop it, to fix what had been done. Then: searching. Much like how they’d used heat signatures to find people to rescue in buildings, the Promare sees people like miniature suns. Some burn different colors, some burn small, some large. When the rift opens, most Promare are drawn by strong emotions, like flares on the surface of the sun of the souls they’re compatible with. The Promare colors vary, vibrant pinks, blues, greens, yellows and all the shades between. This Promare seems a mix of all four, burning brighter than all the rest, even Kray's. In the Promare’s vision, there are thousands of miniature flares, but two massive ones, opposite directions. There’s a moment of hesitation before it shifts, heading for the violently pink flare.

It comes across Lio, first, and beside Galo, there’s a sharp intake of breath. It’s not the same outfit he wore when they met, but it’s undeniably Lio, clad in tasteful shades of white and forest green instead of his normal black. He’s standing between a Burnish child on the ground, burning bright with a ring of full-sized adults around them. Galo doesn’t recognize the city, but he recognizes the nasty intent on their faces, the same as ones in their city, in every city. He recognizes the resignation in Lio’s face as he weighs his odds of winning and commits to doing it anyway, protecting this child he probably doesn’t even _ know _ when all he has is a backpack and his fists.

None of the people in this memory glow as brightly as Lio does, nearly as bright as the Promare star himself, edged in pink at the hottest points. Galo sees the moment the Promare merges with him; Lio stumbles backward, clutching at his hands, gasping as they sputter and light up. The men about to attack are shouting, but unorganized; they think that it’s going to take Lio longer than it does to get his feet back underneath him and he shows them how wrong they are. 

Standing over them, the Promare _ burns, hungers. _ It could swallow them up so easily, they’re barely better than kindling but their souls aren’t very bright at all. Their deaths aren’t a loss, and it wants it wants it _ wants _ — Lio’s hand reaches out over one of them, fury incarnate and then there’s a terrified hiccup of breath behind him. Lio’s hand curls into a fist and withdraws, stumbling back toward the child instead of burning, consuming them like the Promare wants to. Just as Lio goes down to comfort him, the view shifts. 

Lio, sitting on a throne, clad in armor, legs spread, chin tilted as he watches a miniature blue sun fight both Gueira and Meis. When both are locked down, he leans forward as if he’s tugged, sliding out of the throne. Instead of the urge to burn, it’s something else entirely. The closer he gets, the more his powers flare and Galo’s impressed up until he realizes that _ that’s him_. He’s the blue sun, matching the fiery magenta of Lio’s own.

The Promare makes the jump back and forth, and just a piece of it remains in Galo, this spark of pink resting inside the nucleus of his own internal star. 

The view shifts, and then they’re in the Lio De Galon and Galo _ remembers that moment._ Everything had flared bright and for a moment he’d felt like everything clicked into place. When his hand moved, so did Lio’s, and the mech. He knew what needed to be done without thinking about it, moving in tandem. 

Just as soon as the impressions come, they vanish, leaving them surrounded by the void save for Galo’s hand being crushed inside Lio’s. 

“Soulmates,” Lio rasps out of nowhere. “You tie yourselves to the most compatible souls, but we’re…That's what he meant by a parallel universe.” 

“_That’s why _ I developed Burnish powers?” Galo bursts before he can stop himself, eyes wide. “That’s why I kept feeling _ drawn _ somewhere?” 

He’d been drawn to the other half of his soul. Thinking about it that way sounds pretty awesome, actually. He looks over to Lio to see if he’s as excited as Galo is, but instead, he looks crushed, arms around himself, jaw clenched tightly. 

“...Why did you stay with Galo, and not with me?” Lio asks, quieter this time. Galo’s heart aches. It’s the kind of question someone that’s used to people not staying around would ask, and he’s instantly furious at anyone who made him feel that way. 

This time, it’s like a greatest hits playlist. Their last few months, starting with how he’d gotten the burns on his arm, clipping through the time the ceiling almost fell on him, the time he’d nearly gotten caught in a backdraft before realizing, all the times they’d been fighting these last few years. It’s awesome, but also kind of unflattering, since half of them stop when Galo’s been knocked on his ass and the equivalent of a sword put to his throat even if he_ totally recovered _ afterward. 

“That’s not an answer!” Galo protests, even as Lio inclines his head, tired, understanding. 

“You are so much trouble,” Lio tells him, and the light connecting them throbs like it’s agreeing. To the Promare, “...thank you.” 

Galo doesn’t get a chance to thank it before the blackness slips over his vision and he falls back asleep holding Lio’s hand.

🔺🔻🔺

When Galo wakes up in the morning, Lio’s still in bed with him. 

That’s happened a few times before, but he’s never still been _ asleep_. Sometimes he’ll be on the tablet, or will complain he couldn’t get up because Galo was too heavy on top of him even though he could _totally move Galo_ if he wanted. This time, though, he’s stretched out on his back, cheek pressed into the pillow, lips parted as he inhales and exhales, the rise and fall of his chest mesmerizing. One of his hands is reached out to Galo’s chest like even in his sleep he wants to keep touching him. 

Galo doesn’t want to breathe, doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to risk waking Lio up and ruining the moment before he can commit it to memory. He’s never been good at stealth, though. After a few moments of admiring the way Lio’s lashes fall against his cheek, and the bruises he’s left along the line of his throat, Lio opens one eye. Galo nearly pushes himself off the bed in surprise. 

“How are you loud _ all _ of the time,” Lio murmurs, and Galo takes that as invitation enough to roll over onto the bed, draping himself over where Lio’s rolled onto his back. His chin settles neatly over Lio’s shoulder and it puts Lio’s jaw at perfect kissing range, so Galo does, and then keeps pressing kisses to his throat, nuzzling at his pulse just for the way that Lio hums, low and content. An arm winds around his shoulders, and then the other follows and Galo is warm warm _ warm. _

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, nested under the blankets, trading lazy kisses, hands sliding across the expanse of bare skin they’re both presented with. Lio likes it when Galo puts his mouth on his earlobe to trace the earring, likes a touch of teeth to the line of his throat, likes it when Galo slides over him and covers him entirely, trading hot, open-mouthed kisses until one of them has to break away to breathe.

Only when he’s sucked Lio off a second time, diving under the covers, holding Lio’s hips firmly down against the bed so he can take his time with it no matter how much Lio bitches about how he’s taking _ forever,_ does he finally think maybe they ought to get up. The blankets are damp with sweat and hunger’s starting to make itself known with a low growl of his stomach under Galo’s ear. 

“Hungry?” Galo smiles the word against Lio’s stomach, scraping his teeth over the jut of a hip just for the way Lio’s breath hitches and his hands tighten in Galo’s hair. “Oh! I can bring you breakfast in bed.” 

“Why would we eat breakfast in bed?” Lio asks drowsily, petting Galo’s bangs down despite knowing that they won’t stay. Galo kisses his fingers when they come close enough, and beams when Lio’s hand cups his cheek, warm and affectionate. 

“So you don’t have to get up. So I get to come back to you in bed,” Galo trails kisses along the palm of Lio’s hand, grinning widely when Lio’s face starts to flush red and he looks away, embarrassed. “You’re the one doing me the favor!” 

“Shut _ up_,” Lio groans which Galo is learning means he’s too flustered to really know what to say in response, pushing his hand against Galo’s face despite the laughter and flurry of kisses pressed to it. “I want pancakes.” 

“We really are soulmates,” Galo says cheerfully, just to watch the way that Lio’s eyes go wide, startled. “I want pancakes too.” 

It’s totally worth it even if Lio does shove him out of bed onto the ground and burrito himself into the covers, back turned to him. Galo laughs the whole way out into the kitchen and a little while later comes back with a plate full of pancakes and fruit, two cups of coffee dwarfed in his other hand. Lio’s still a blanket lump but he slowly uncurls when Galo sets the food down onto the bedside table, two eyes and messy bangs peeking out from under the nest of blankets. _ Cute_, Galo thinks, heart pounding furiously in his chest. 

Coffee is passed over and slowly, Lio sits up in bed to accept it, wrapping both hands around it to start sipping slowly. It takes some creative wiggling but they manage to settle with Galo’s back against the headboard, Lio tucked in against his chest and a tray of flames holding the plate and coffee up safely over the bed. Every so often, Galo will lean down to grab a bite or a sip of coffee and find a new area to kiss along the line of Lio’s shoulder, wholly distracted from eating by the expanse of bare skin. After the first few times Lio gives up trying to stop him and instead just tilts his head to the side, melting back. When it’s not holding a cup of coffee, Lio’s hand flattens itself against the thick swell of Galo’s thigh, stroking over it lazily.

He doesn’t really want to leave the apartment, which is a new development; normally he can’t wait to get out there, to get to work, but seeing this side of Lio makes him greedy and selfish. He wants to stay like this for as long as humanly possible but justifies leaving with the fact that for the definable future, this is what he gets to come back to. 

Lio doesn’t let them shower or bathe together, which is pretty fair: Galo knows they wouldn’t get properly clean for _ ages_, so they rotate off. When Galo swings his leg over the motorcycle, Lio doesn’t protest being the one riding instead of driving. It is, Galo realizes, because Lio is _ evil_, and the whole ride there he has to contend with gloved hands sliding over his hips, his belly, a smile as sharp as a knife pressed against his shoulder at a stoplight. All of the times when they’d touched on the motorcycle before were nothing compared to this, he’s realizing.

When they arrive back at Burning Rescue, Lio instantly vanishes to go find Meis and Gueira and Galo shrugs his backpack into his locker, ambling to the rec room to talk to Lucia. He sees Aina first, but when he raises his hand to say hi, her eyes go wide and she _ grins_. It’s not the _ oh wow I’m so happy to see you Galo _ smile, it’s _ evil_. 

“Hey?” he tries, only for her to breeze past him, smacking her hand on the doorframe. 

“I WIN, PAY UP SUCKERS,” she hollers down the hallway to a chorus of groans and complaints from the rest of them.   
  
“You are so weird,” Galo tells her, and ducks past to head into Lucia’s robotics room.

“Lucia! I was wondering—” 

Lucia’s on her tablet and spins around when he enters, the light from it reflecting off her glasses ominously. “...oh, she did win.” 

“_Win what? _ ” Galo asks helplessly. He would be excited for her if he knew what she won! (He would win if he knew what they were playing, his soul burns for a good challenge but _ he doesn’t know, _ so_!) _Lucia doesn’t answer and starts heading for the room where the rest of them are, Galo following her like a sad puppy. “Hey, were you guys playing a game without me?”

Lucia titters and Remi glances up from where he’s passing cash over to a smug Aina. Across the room, on one of the computers, Heris looks over at him. Looks down, goes bright red and whirls around back to her computer. “I’ll buy you lunch,” she says, before typing furiously. (_ Me_? Galo mouths, pointing at his chest; Aina shakes her head and gestures to herself, smugly.)

No one has answered his question yet, which is wildly unfair, because the longer this goes on the more he wants to know. He has a plan, though, a foolproof one. “I’ll tell you guys what we found out about the Promare last night if you tell me.”   
  
“Oh my god,” Aina wheezes, while the room explodes and Galo is left standing in the middle, utterly perplexed. “Oh my god, _ oh my god.” _

_ “_I’d really rather you didn’t,” Remi says tiredly. “Some things are better left to the imagination, or not imagining at all.” 

“Congratulations, or uh, finally, I guess,” Varys says kindly, slapping him on the shoulder on the way past, which again _ doesn’t answer his question_. “The Captain wants to see you. Probably should put a shirt on.” 

“No!” Aina hisses, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at Varys’ chest where it bounces off onto the ground. “Don’t take this from me.” 

“You’re all the worst,” Galo informs them, very dignified and heads back to his locker to put a shirt on because out of all of them Varys wouldn’t lead him wrong, probably. On the way there, he ducks into the room that Meis, Gueira, and Lio are holed up in, the three of them pouring over some piece of paperwork or another. “Hey, were you guys playing whatever game Aina was playing?” 

“What game—” Three sets of eyes look up at him and two of them go very, very wide. Lio looks resigned.

“Do not,” Lio says deliberately, just as Meis chokes on coffee and Gueira helpfully smacks him repeatedly on the back. “Galo, we’ll be out later. Let me know what Captain Ignis says.” 

“Sure, boss!” Galo agrees, because the other two are just _ staring _ and not being helpful at all. It’s pretty worth it just for the way Lio ducks his head, the tips of his ears go pink, scribbling something furiously onto the paper. 

Only when he’s in the locker room again, digging around for a shirt does he realize what, exactly was causing all the commotion. From his throat to his chest is a wreck of pink marks, bites and bruises and faint lines where Lio’s armored claws had scraped over skin. Oh. Well. Galo tugs a shirt on and scrubs a hand through his hair and ambles off to his meeting. 

🔺🔻🔺

Kray escapes while they’re explaining everything (okay well not _ everything) _ to the Captain. 

Truthfully, Galo’s not sure if he’s _ escaped _, or someone has broken him out because there are plenty who have breezed past the war crimes, experimentation and everything else and still support him; it wouldn’t surprise him. Aina tears into the room as they’re finishing up explaining, not bothering to knock. 

“We’re getting reports of Burnish flames from the center of Parnassus,” she gasps. Lio stands in a rush, chair clattering behind him.

“Kray Foresight,” Ignis says steadily, and meets Galo’s eyes. “Go.” 

“Meis, Gueira,” Lio calls as they run down the hallway; his generals slide out of the room, falling into step easily while the sirens go off around them. “Help Burning Rescue with evacuation. Prioritize rescue and containment. Then, I need you at the Parnassus. You’ll know when.” 

Despite all his protestations that Ignis isn’t his captain, he cuts Ignis a look. 

“The secret’s out,” Ignis answers, somehow knowing what Lio’s asking without anything being said. “It would do the city some good to see Mad Burnish helping.” 

Oh. _Oh._ Both Meis and Gueira light up when they realize what’s being asked and Lio tucks his hair behind his ear. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look unhappy, either. “Go.” 

“Got it, boss!” they chime in unison, and Galo watches as both of them go up in flames, armor licking over their bodies, their vehicles appearing underneath them. There’s the screech of rubber on the ground of the garage and both of them zip out just as the firetruck tears out after them. 

Beside him, Lio’s hands are clenching and unclenching and Galo grabs one, holding it gently. 

“You can drive,” he offers, and Lio nods once before the flames envelop him and then burn away. Galo has to _ look up _ at him like this, and wow, wow, okay, he’s totally going to examine why he’s so into that later, when they’re not about to go into a fight. Lio’s motorcycle materializes underneath both of them and he slides into place behind Lio, winding his arms around his waist, shouting to be heard over the roar of the engine. “I still _ really _ want armor!” 

“What’s stopping you?” Lio calls back, giving up on driving on the streets to drive straight up the side of a building. 

It’s… a good question, really. He’d just sort of assumed that it was granted to them, or they picked it out or something but now that he’s thinking about it...

It feels different than summoning the flames to fight, or having Lio summon them to give him skates, or using them to cook the pancakes just the right consistency that he’s learned Lio prefers. It feels like he’s reaching into himself and pulling his burning desire to win, save and _ protect _ out of himself, cloaking himself in it. When he looks down at his hands, they’re covered in the same slick black armor that the others are wearing, but instead of tight, form-fitting armor he’s used to there are sleeves decorated with wide angular lines, similar to the Matoi armor that Lucia built him but (not that he would ever say this to her, okay) _ better. _

_ “Ahhh!” _Galo whoops as they jump a building rooftop to the next, the Parnassus a large, looming monolith before them, glowing violently blue. “Why did you wait so long to tell me to do this! This sets my soul on fire! We’ll definitely win!” 

Lio doesn’t respond verbally, which is fine because he _ feels the answer_, Lio’s amusement, affection, and pride bleeding through their connection, along with the certainty that Galo’s right. They _ will _ win. 

Around the Parnassus, fires are raging, like all of Kray’s control has finally burnt out. The blue pulses once, twice and then a line shoots straight up into the sky, crackling. There’s no portal opening above, but the heat and spill of power coming from the inside of it mean he’s opening it from inside the ship.

“He’s going to open a portal to the other planet,” Galo says in shock, and feels the hum inside his chest from the Promare, agreeing. 

They come to rest on top of Parnassus, the motorcycle melting away as Lio stalks forward toward the unrepaired hole that they’d left from the attack, covered with a bunch of stitched together tarps until they could figure out what else to do. 

“I don’t think it’s entirely him doing this,” Lio says, sweeping his hand across the tarps with a dismissive gesture, the plastic burning away in an instant. “His Promare… they all want to burn, but this is worse. This feels like it’s starving.” 

That doesn’t make much sense, but it doesn’t matter because they’re jumping down, down, down and then they’re in that horrific room again. Kray stands at the center, enveloped in sickly blue flames, wings outstretched. The prosthetic from earlier is gone, replaced with the Promare arm, burning. “You came,” he calls, human hand and Promare hand outstretched but fisted in the red barbed wire Lio had been wrapped in, wreathed in flames. “I told you, I wouldn’t stay there. You can’t stop me.” 

“Kray, _ stop this, please! _ ” Galo shouts over the roar of the flames, the hum of the engine, because it’s in him to save first, it will always be in him to _ save. _ There are still people on board, people who weren’t able to be relocated. If he transports it, all of them will go with him. Galo doesn’t think that he’s strong enough to do that, but he doesn’t know, and Kray hasn’t done anything without a plan so maybe—

“I know what it’s like,” Lio says, edging closer, sword in hand. “To want to burn more than anything else, to be so _ hungry _ that you feel like nothing else will sate it.” 

“You know _ nothing_,” Kray snarls, the facade of the angel falling to pieces in a heartbeat as his face goes ugly with anger and his wings flare brightly. Galo’s heart _ aches. _ “You _ are _ nothing, you’re _ weak _ , you’re inconsequential, _ all of you, _ no better than _ kindling _—”

The red cords he holds glows so violently it almost hurts to look at and on one of the containment panels from before, Galo sees the portal open wider, an awful, yawning mouth. They can’t let this happen, they can’t let him succeed, but Galo doesn’t know how they’re going to _ stop _ him. Removal isn’t possible, they’ve poured through all of Kray’s research and he spent a sickening amount of time researching removing the Promare from his subjects, none of them successful. 

Stretching out a hand, Galo wills the matoi into his grip leveling it at Kray, hesitating because he needs a chance to stop this, and Galo will give him as many chances as he can. Beside him, Lio has no such issues; he bolts forward in a streak of flames and the resulting collision sends debris blasting outward. Lio goes flying with a shout, slamming into a wall with an audible crack. When he slides down the wall into a crumpled heap and doesn’t move, Galo’s heart stops. He stops hesitating and acts, twisting around the whip that cracks out, catching it with the matoi, twisting and _ heaving_, yanking the whip away from Kray with a flex of his shoulders. 

“_Please_!” Galo says again, armor fading from his head because maybe Kray doesn’t know, doesn’t realize. “I _ promise_, we can find a different solution. The Earth is saved, we don’t _ need _ another planet—” 

“You’re too much of an idiot to even begin to understand. You cannot save everyone.” Kray spits, and Galo yelps as the whip appears again and winds around his throat, lifting him effortlessly in the air. “The most you are good for is _ fuel_.” 

He tries to summon the matoi into his hand but another wraps itself around his wrist, his legs, creeping up around the armor, breaking it into pieces as it siphons off his energy. Above them, the gaping hole grows larger and Kray burns even brighter, manic in his certainty. Kicking, Galo gasps for breath and the bindings tighten further, smoke billowing around them as everything ignites. Panicking won’t help, but for a moment, the smoke, the heat, and the flare of flames around them remind him of home, of the fear that there’s no way out, the flames surrounding him, burning everything he’s known. 

Galo chokes on a cry, reaching for power that’s sucked away just as soon as he grabs for it and then, abruptly, he’s falling and Lio is standing in front of him, matoi in one hand, sword in the other. Gasping for a breath, Galo takes his weapon when it’s offered and then grasps firmly at Lio’s forearm to heft himself up, feeling the armor start to slick over his skin again, settling into place. 

It feels like the battle goes forever, but he knows it must be like fighting a fire, like a rescue: it stretches out forever but is only a few minutes, really. The ship shudders around them, threatening to lift, and they’ve blown holes in wall after wall, room after room, chasing the streaks of flames. Finally, there’s a moment to breathe. They’re in the laboratory where Kray had first showed him his horrific creation, nonchalant, so certain he was doing the right thing. 

Panting, leaning on the matoi more than he’ll ever admit, Galo glances from Lio standing at his side, clearly favoring one leg over the other, steady and resolute. 

From the door, there’s a shout; both Meis and Gueira at the door, fighting their way through the mass of writhing, blue-haloed cords toward them. Lio swings his sword, pointing at the massive wheel in the center of the room. “_There!” _

“You can’t save everyone,” Kray says again, but this time it’s _ different; _ he doesn’t sound furious, he sounds _ certain._ The flames roar around him and Galo can _ feel _ as the portal gets closer, larger, looming above them. “The portal will take everything with it. My will, my _ intent _ is too strong for it to do anything else.” 

“I know,” Lio says, and he doesn’t sound nearly as concerned as Galo feels like he should, given the situation. “Our will is stronger. Galo.” 

Lio’s hand reaches out to his and holds bruisingly tight, all of his aches from earlier fading once more as the flames swallow them up, forcing Kray back step after step as they step forward. Behind him is the remains of one of the cases, the one he’d seen the scientist vanish into, appearing in the case next to it. A wreath of their combined flames encircles Kray and the platform, holding back Kray’s power only _ barely. _

“_Now, _ ” Lio shouts to Gueira and Meis, Galo realizes what’s going to happen just a second before Lio and the others act. Their flames force Kray back one more step onto the metal panel, the glass long since destroyed. Behind them, both Gueira and Meis shove their flames into the mass of cords attached to the machine the pizza maker had been strapped to. The portal rips wider, shudders like it’s alive, slithering down down _ down _until it swallows Kray’s flames and then himself in one violent rush. 

It feels just like when they activated all of the Promare, the rush of power so bright and strong that Galo’s sure he won’t be able to contain all of it, a cup filled to bursting until he directs it. Lio was right; their will, their intent is stronger because it _has to be_. Lio wants this to end, and Galo wants to _ save, _ wants it more than anything else at that moment. Their flames encircle Kray’s own, containing it into a smaller and smaller space as the portal siphons it off. 

That’s the moment Galo realizes their mistake. 

They’ve contained all of this power, all of this energy into singular location, but it’s still _ fire_. The blast is going to be too large when they lower the wall, he realizes. It’s too much for even them to handle if they aren’t expecting it. The resulting backdraft of power is going to wipe all of them out; the Burnish might be used to starting fires but they don’t have the experience of stopping them when they’re out of their control. 

He does, though. Galo turns to look at Lio, because he fully intends to survive but _ just in case, _ he knows what the last thing he wants to see is. 

“You’re amazing,” Galo says, smiling, turning to stand in front of him with his back to the blaze, putting himself between Lio and the explosion he knows is coming. When the circle drops, it feels like all the pressure in the room snaps, a violent pop as the room goes white-hot to the point that even he can feel it. Lio’s hand is still in his and Galo holds it just as tightly as the flames swallow them both. 

🔺🔻🔺

Galo wakes in bits and pieces. 

There’s a slow, steady beeping that seems like it increases when he listens, but doing anything about it is impossible right now. It’s loud and annoying, though and he’d really, really like it to stop. A moment later there’s a shout and the smell of smoke, the sound of plastic popping, melting. The beeping has stopped, but now there’s _ yelling _ and oh, he hasn’t had a hangover this bad _ ever. _

Groaning, Galo tries to lift a hand over his face only to overcompensate; his hand smacks his face and he groans again, pathetically. 

When he manages to win the battle to open up his eyes, Lio is looking down at him, looking terribly worried and terribly beautiful. Galo really, really wants to kiss him and says as much, slurred and clumsy. 

“You— no,” Lio says firmly, fondly, and Galo thinks that’s kind of bullshit, because everything hurts and a kiss would make him feel at least ten times better. “Go back to sleep, idiot. We’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

_ We_? Galo mouths, perplexed, and then he looks around; the room he’s in is full, too many people packed into a too small room. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. 

“Wow, hey,” Galo says muzzily, dragging the ‘o’ out, “For a hangover? Did I win a drinking contest?” 

Then, he’s out again.

Waking the second time is easier. There’s no beeping and he’s warm, so, so warm, warm down to his toes, a solid weight spooned up behind him. Around his waist, there’s an arm and Galo hums quietly, groping for the hand he knows is there, curling their fingers together. Behind him there’s a sharp intake of breath and then the exact opposite of what he wants to happen, happens. They’re moving, Galo pushed onto his back while Lio leans over him, green eyes wide, luminous in the dim lighting of the room. He really is the most beautiful person that Galo’s ever seen.

“You’re awake,” Lio breathes, hand cupping the side of Galo’s face to tilt his head where he wants it, which is consequently also where Galo wants it, fully into the warmth of Lio’s palm. It’s a nice change; Lio’s hands used to be shockingly cool after everything and now they’re toasty warm and Galo wants them all over him. 

He hums a response and this time manages to lift an arm to wind it around bony shoulders, tugging Lio down against him firmly. This is nice. Lio doesn’t normally stay in bed, he’s usually up when Galo gets up and they head to Burning Rescue headquarters and —

“Kray!” he shouts, trying to get up only to be shoved back down into the bed with a firm press against his sternum. Lio doesn’t seem panicked about it, so they must have done okay, but he doesn’t _ remember _ . Wracking his memories for any indication of what happened doesn’t help. He remembers the heat and the flames, remembers the warp portal and the way that it had swallowed Kray whole, but then… nothing. “Lio, what _ happened?” _

“You idiot, you absolutely stupid, suicidal—” Lio hisses all in one rush and then leans down, kissing him within an inch of his life. That’s what he _ wanted _ in the first place so he’s not exactly mad, but he’s absolutely too tired to kiss back properly, the way Lio deserves. Lio doesn’t seem too upset about it, though, because after one kiss he leans down for another and this one has the fizzle of heat to it that Galo remembers from before, when he was bringing Lio back from the brink of death. Lio is _ still _ muttering insults under his breath even while kissing him which isn’t surprising but also: rude. All of his friends are so rude.

The second kiss makes him functional, at the very least. He still feels as if he’s been hit by the Rescuemobile and then backed up over, but thinking is a little bit easier, and articulation isn’t quite as impossible. 

“You didn’t answer,” Galo points out gently, because he has a feeling that he probably, kinda sorta almost died and Lio can’t have taken that particularly well. 

“We opened a portal to the Promare star instead and sent Kray Foresight’s Promare back where it came from,” Lio grimaces and then kisses him again, probably to stop him from asking more questions he’s going to answer. “Kray is back in containment, but it’s… he’s more _ him _ than he’s been in years, apparently. Still a monster. Still standing trial, but they have to start over since now the defense can argue he was possessed, or something.” 

“Oh.” He’s not quite sure what to do with that, disappointed more than anything else. Kray’s crimes weren’t excusable, but maybe a part of him wished they hadn’t been Kray’s at all, that maybe the Promare had been the cause. “So… it worked?” 

“It worked,” Lio assures him, swallowing hard. “You realized what was going to happen before I did, though. When we broke the seal to release the portal, the flames had burned all the oxygen out of the enclosed space. They exploded out and—”

“A backdraft,” Galo yawns, nodding. He might not know the science behind it, but every good firefighter knows how to watch out for them. 

“A backdraft. You took as much of the fire as you could and we took the rest of it.” Lio’s face twists a moment and he shakes his head. “You almost died. I thought... I thought you were _going_ to die. You nearly _ did, _ you idiot! You’ve been using Burnish abilities for a few _ months_, not years, it could have killed you. I did what I could and then you were kept in the hospital for a few days. There were more burns on your back, but they’ve mostly healed. I tried telling them it’s not like a hospital would _ help,_ but they didn’t listen. Eventually, they let me take you back here because there wasn’t anything else that could be done. You just...you needed to wake up.” 

“I did, and I didn’t die. There isn’t a fire out there that could extinguish my soul, you know that,” Galo gentles his tone, because Lio looks awfully upset and Galo hates it. He nearly died, Lio had saved him probably using the same method that he’d tried before on the woman, but this time, it had worked. “Lio.” 

“What,” Lio asks thickly, eyes damp at the corners, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Everyone else is fine, too. You’re on desk duty for the next two weeks, though. Aina told me to tell you you're grounded.” 

Galo groans in protest, internally promising to turn that into a maximum of a week, if that. More importantly, though, he reaches a hand out and cards it through Lio’s hair, tugging him close. Lio resists, just to be a contrary asshole and Galo’s tone turns cajoling. “I gotta return something to you.” 

The realization hits Lio faster than it would Galo. He leans down obligingly, and Galo kisses him (open-mouthed, despite morning breath; Lio doesn’t say anything) and then melts back into the pillows, still exhausted. 

“Did you carry me back?” Galo asks after a few moments of just laying there, listening to Lio’s soft, steady breathing. Then, because he’s the worst, “Was it a fireman carry? Lio? Ah! _ Ow! _ Be nice to me, it was _ just a question!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update 10/9: THERE'S MORE??? FANART???? JESUS. Please look at this [incredible art](https://silverchimaera-art.tumblr.com/post/188247121173/hands) from Micah!!! 
> 
> a note before folks ask:  
\- no kray still sucks and was a bad dude, but my ~~~ headcanon ~~~ is that if the promare are sentient, and we don't know how tf that hole opened up what if his promare was like... unicron or something and just wanted to eat everything. hongry. and then kray goes and basically is like no you can literally never eat, never burn. the burnish WANT to do it and i think it's really interesting that lio is the one who encourages it in a "this is the moral way to do this" and kray squashes it down, doesn't let it surface at all  
\- i really...kinda wanna write a sequel already because i love worldbuilding and political machinations and the fallout of what happens after everything?  
\- the first line of this fic that was written was a variation on the line about how promare don't even have thumbs.  
i know what i'm about  
ALSO i kind of like the idea that the promare are... pacman/pacmen and kind of....y'know just eat things/each other to become larger and more powerful.
> 
> last: hey do you ever just...think about what happens tyl because i have not been able to stop thinking about like... politician lio + firefighter galo and like  
adoption  
so.
> 
> Anyway it’s a week later and I’m still a mess so the sequel will be put up in a day or two 😭

**Author's Note:**

> i need you to know that this was literally just going to be one scene and then i fucking. did this. to myself. oh my god.


End file.
